The Sound of Magic
by CRMediaGal
Summary: Lost, lonely, and uncertain of what mountain she wants to climb in life, Hermione Granger accepts a position as a governess to a reclusive, well-known ex-Death Eater and his seven children in the Scottish highlands. Hermione's curiosity about her employer is just the beginning of her journey. Based on The Sound of Music. Written for the SSHG Promptfest on LiveJournal. AU, Post-War.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : So...something new. Multi-chapter. Written for the SSHG Promptfest on LiveJournal. **

**The title is (obviously) derived from its musical inspiration. It was a fun (and sometimes nerve-wracking) challenge to undertake. Hopefully it's enjoyable. You will find certain characters, parts of the storyline, and even dialogue appropriately mirroring the original, as well as new characters and scenes intended to offer a 'fresh twist'. Additional information on my prompt can be found below.**

 _ **As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated. Without your thoughts, it isn't worth sharing. T** **hanks to my beta, Brittny, for her immeasurable help.**_

 **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. _The Sound of Music_ is copyrighted to and belongs to Rodgers  & Hammerstein. I'm just playing in their sandboxes. No money, just fun. Artwork was created for this story by the lovely, talented Jamie. Many, many thanks to her!  
**

* * *

 **LJ Fest:** SSHG Prompt Fest  
 **Prompter:** toblass  
 **Creator:** CRMediaGal  
 **Beta(s):** Brittny  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Warning(s):** Mild Language  
 **Prompt:** The Scottish Hills are alive, with the sound of...magic? AU version of SS/HG loosely based on _The Sound of Music_.

* * *

 _ **The Sound of Magic**_

 **Chapter 1**

 _"I go to the hills when my heart is lonely..."_

* * *

Madame Olympe Maxime gave a resigned shake of her head and turned away from the intricate glass window in her office that looked out upon a breath-taking small portion of the majestic Pyrenees Mountains. The view was enough to make one's heart sing, its beauty otherworldly, even to those of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, who held the luxury of gazing upon the mountains' majesty on a regular basis.

In all her decades as acting Headmistress to the French-based wizarding school, Madame Maxime had never tired of the mountains. They were an intricate part of the school's landscape, each tied to the other's long-standing history, and appreciating them today should have been like any other day—only, one of her recently graduated students-turned staffers was missing in action. She had never shown in the Dining Chamber at dinner, and, as Madame Maxime later uncovered, no one had spotted neither nose nor hair of her since that morning.

 _That_ was a tad disconcerting but not unexpected. The young witch, as exceptionally smart as she may be—and she _was_ one of the brightest witches Madame Maxime had ever had the good fortune to know—was prone to wandering off fairly frequently. She had a reputation for being a loner, a dreamer, and had been so ever since her arrival at Beauxbatons as an overeager eleven-year old girl. She hadn't made many friends or taken to socialising much outside of her studies. Instead, she concealed her plain face, thirsty brown eyes, and button nose behind thick tomes and grossly overwrought, bushy hair. To the witch's credit, at least her tresses and general appearance had improved since that early painful transition from girl to womanhood.

 _And perhaps even more is about to change..._ Madame Maxime slumped into the enormous marble chair behind her elaborately-carved desk that was two sizes larger than the average human's, proudly displaying Abraxan horses' wings at either front. After sitting quietly and reflectively for a short time, Madame Maxime extracted her wand, waved her hand in the air, and transmitted a message by way of her Abraxan Patronus. "Gaspard," she addressed in her thick French accent, "retrieve Hermione Granger, would you? I believe you will find her at her usual spot on the hill. I have a proposition for her."

The Patronus neighed, soared through the headmistress's window, and disappeared into the mountains, where the school's gamekeeper, no doubt, was busily fetching any lingering students out past curfew back to their appropriate bunks.

* * *

Hermione sighed contentedly, appreciating the gentle mountain breeze that ruffled her frizzy curls. The silence that greeted her ears was heavenly. She treasured this tranquil spot at the top of the hill, about a one-mile trek from the Academy's front gates. The hills were her solitude, her sanctuary, where she had often retreated during her school days to centre herself after an intense bout of studying; or when she simply needed to escape the trite social confinements of student life. That had transcended to adulthood constraints as well, such as the tedious meal conversations at the head table and intense Quidditch bets between professors.

At one time, Hermione had despised her parents—well, mostly her mother—for sending her here. She had initially been accepted into Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry back home in England but, upon further thorough inspection of her options, Helen Granger had determined that Beauxbatons would be a 'better fit' for her daughter. Her husband, David, had offered little rebuttal, but both he and his shrewd daughter knew what Mrs Granger was up to.

Helen's hopes of Beauxbatons improving Hermione's breeding probably fell short of expectations, but the school ihad/i polished upon a great deal of her propriety and general bossiness. She was still labelled 'swotty' by some of her peers and a 'plain Jane' by most, but Hermione Granger had also cultivated better care of her once unruly mane, was able to apply basic makeup techniques, and now properly chewed with her mouth closed.

Today, Hermione was a graduate and on the cusp of change. She had spent the summer following the end of her studies trying to determine her next academic steps, though retreating to her favourite spot on the hill hadn't yet presented her with a solution. Madame Maxime had been kind enough to offer her a summer post overseeing the Academy library, but that would soon be drawing to a close. Hermione was running out of options and time, the stress of not knowing where she might wind up next leading her more and more to the hillsides for guidance.

 _Maybe you should just go home_ , her conscience too often concluded; but why? She was no longer homesick for England and revered the French countryside that had been her personal playground for the past seven years. _It would be nice to see Mum and Dad, you know..._

"Hermione!" came a wheezing shout from behind her, startling Hermione out of her deep thoughts. Gaspard, the elderly school gamekeeper with long, coarse grey hair and wise, brown eyes, was trudging towards her on foot. His outdoor attire—an assortment of browns and greens that easily blended with the landscape—was unmistakable to Hermione, even with the light of dusk fading fast behind the mountain tops. His eyes normally smiled whenever they greeted the young witch but, this evening, they appeared disgruntled at finding her here. He sighed as he reached her, removed his mackinaw hat, and used it to dab beads of sweat from his forehead. "Madame Maxime wants to see you."

Hermione blinked, surprised. "Now?"

"No, next week," Gaspard practically growled before shooing her in the opposite direction. "Off with you! Go!"

"All right, all right!" she consented, chuckling under her breath as she led the way back down the hillside, with a griping Gaspard trailing far behind.

* * *

"A _governess_?"

"You're offended?" Madame Maxime raised her thick eyebrows, and Hermione's cheeks flushed red.

"Well, it wasn't _exactly_ what I had in mind for my future, Madame Maxime..."

"Consider it a stepping stone, Hermione. You are still toying with the idea of becoming a professor, aren't you?"

"I'm considering it, yes, but..." Hermione didn't understand how playing babysitter to a group of wizarding children was somehow going to better prepare her for academic life, _if_ she even chose to pursue that course.

"Hermione," said Madame Maxime, issuing patience as she patted the worn correspondence laying unfurled on top of her desk; it was smaller than her half-giant-sized hand, "I think you may feel more enticed by this offer with a few more details about the post, such as who you would be working for." Hermione furrowed her brow, waiting, so Madame Maxime divulged with an unexpected question, "Are you familiar with Severus Snape?"

Hermione's brown eyes widened, conveying an instant recognition of the name, though mostly from hearsay. _Severus Snape?_ "You mean...the Death Eater?" she slowly responded, sounding both unnerved and suspicious.

" _Former_ Death Eater, Hermione. You don't think I would be so precarious with your life as to allow you to work for the latter, would you?"

"No, of course not, Madame Maxime."

"Very good." Madame Maxime raised her chin and began to explain, "The post runs from this September to September next—" before she was promptly interrupted by a loud gasp.

"September?" Hermione gaped at the headmistress, her mind clearly muddling over the proposition now in front of her. It would require a year-long commitment, and if she didn't care for it... _You'd be wasting the next year of your life!_

Madame Maxime merely nodded. "Yes. For seven children."

" _Seven children_?"

Madame Maxime eyed over her former student more carefully. "Do you not like children, Hermione?"

"Oh, I... Well, yes," Hermione confided, though her mouth was still hanging open, "but _seven_?" Somehow, she couldn't visualise Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater-turned Hogwarts professor, being a father of _seven_ children. Who would marry and bed such a man who carried his rather notorious reputation to begin with? _Then again, what exactly do you even know about him to be so sure, Hermione?_ her conscience reasoned, shutting her up.

"Are you up for the challenge, my dear?"

Inwardly, Hermione wrestled the matter, weighing the pros and cons in her head. She was hard-pressed to resist, what with Madame Maxime so gently but determinedly testing her resolve, and the idea of meeting the infamous Severus Snape was admittedly a tempting offer. Still, a _governess_? A conflicted sort of frown settled upon Hermione's lips as she quietly conceded, "Very well, Madame Maxime. I'll accept."

"Wonderful!" Madame Maxime beamed from ear to ear. "I will write to Professor Snape and let him know that he may expect you tomorrow."

 _So soon?_ Hermione swallowed hard as the headmistress scooped up her white, feathered quill, snatched a fresh piece of parchment from inside one of her desk drawers, and was about to pen her reply. "Madame Maxime?" she piped up, her voice soft and restrained. The headmistress's quill halted as a drip of ink splotched the top of the empty parchment. "May I ask why the professor is suddenly in need of a governess at this time?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the particulars, Hermione; only that he has been alone with the children for sometime, poor man, and is seeking help."

"But why not choose from a selection of governesses back in England? Surely, there must be plenty of options?"

"Professor Snape wants someone of academic standing. The children will need to learn to hone and harness their magic, you see."

Hermione stared on, perplexed. "And there is no one in England who could meet those demands?"

"Professor Snape is quite selective. There have been a few governesses, but they seem to come and go rather quickly and have not been well-suited for the job, which is why the professor reached out to me. You immediately came to mind."

 _None of this sounds too promising..._ Hermione lowered her eyes, thinking. "I see."

Sensing that Madame Maxime had nothing further to offer her on the peculiar post, Hermione finally rose out of her chair and bowed her head. She felt suddenly unsteady on her feet but proceeded to the door, intent to return to her rooms to collect her belongings.

Returning home was suddenly a _lot_ closer than Hermione ever thought possible.

* * *

 _Oh...bugger._

Hermione, a bit winded from her hike to the front gates, ogled the impressive sight before her widened eyes, her face pressed in between the iron bars to better admire Severus Snape's enormous, ostentatious estate. The grand white house was simple in its design but stately, nonetheless; it was, by far, the most massive home Hermione had ever laid eyes on.

A circular, stone-covered driveway and equally colossal trees shaded much of its front, along with an array of blooms that stretched to both sides of the house. Hermione recognised them as some kind of foreign flower not native to the country; but she passed over their particulars quickly, in search of any staff who might come out to let her in.

After a minute or two, it became apparent to Hermione that she would have to see herself in. The nervous witch sucked in a shaky breath and struggled to pull back the front gates on her own, managing just to squeeze herself in between without crushing her ribs in the process. The gates clattered and clanged shut behind her. Hermione cringed. Her spine tingled as well, sensing the invisible magical barriers she had crossed over as she stepped onto the property. She suspected that they were probably alerting whoever was within that a stranger was approaching the house, so she heightened her pace to the towering front doors, brushing back her wind-whipped curls and smoothing her outfit as she scurried along.

 _You can do this, Hermione_ , she repeated to herself, having been encouraging her anxieties since the beginning of her short Apparition journey that morning. She had stopped only once while en route to admire the splendour of the dramatic Scottish hillsides, falling strangely in love with the rather ominous, brooding countryside the closer and closer she ventured towards her destination. She wished there was time to stop over in London and visit with her parents first, but, with Madame Maxime and Professor Snape counting on her to be prompt, there was no room for error or delay.

 _You can do this, Hermione. Exude confidence and you'll be just fine. Remember: he's an ex-Death Eater. Ex!_

Hermione arrived at the front iron-clad doors and, still, no one came out to greet her. Perhaps the professor had no staff? That seemed odd but, not wishing to dawdle any longer, Hermione puffed up her chest and rang the doorbell. Her curious eyes darted momentarily towards the exquisite flowerbeds to her right and left, squinting to make out their unique trimmings.

Edelweiss? _Strange..._ Said flower, adorned with lovely white petals and small, yellow spikelet-florets, normally only grew at high altitudes in the Alps, not in the brutal Scottish highlands. There appeared to be an enchantment covering the beds to keep them from dying off in what Hermione surmised must be regularly treacherous weather conditions. It was a peculiar but enticing choice of a flower as well and sparked Hermione's growing interest in the professor. _It hardly seems fitting to the personality of a reformed Death Eater..._

Suddenly, the heavy doors creaked open, yanking Hermione from her thoughts. She straightened as a considerably older gentleman with a thin, perfectly-shaped moustache, slicked back dark hair, and long, burgundy-coloured wizarding robes materialised in the doorway, without glimmer of a smile at meeting her.

"Erm, hello, Professor?" chanced Hermione, cursing herself for sounding so painfully bubbly right at the off. She reminded herself that it was essential to make a solid first impression and shoved down the reservations that were prickling at the back of her mind. She forced a smile, but when the aged wizard sharply looked her up and down, either appalled or indifferent to her oversized jumper and wool, plaited skirt ensemble, her confidence depleted like air being let out of a balloon. He didn't say anything to her, prompting Hermione to speak up again, though nervously, "I - I'm Hermione Granger, the new governess."

"And I'm the old butler, Miss Granger," he acknowledged slowly.

 _Oh, bugger._ Hermione chewed her inner cheek to keep from kicking the stone step. "My apologies, sir. How do you do?" She offered the butler her hand but he reared back, peering down at it as though it was a dangerous object. Hermione awkwardly withdrew her hand.

"Yes, well," he gradually replied, "come in." He didn't hold the door for her to enter but, instead, glided out of sight, leaving Hermione to pick up her suitcase, close the hefty door behind her, and stagger to keep up.

Luckily, they didn't have to walk far. The unnamed butler ushered Hermione directly into an expansive entryway, with lavish wood flooring and the highest ceilings in a home she had ever seen. She wasn't certain if they were enchanted to be such a height or not, but the massive crystal chandelier fixture glimmering from the centre of the ceiling took Hermione's breath away.

She was busily eying the grandeur of the room, along with two imposing staircases on either side of her, when the butler abruptly reminded Hermione that she wasn't alone. "Wait here," he commanded and disappeared through a painted door on the opposite end of the room.

Once alone, Hermione plopped her suitcase down with a sigh of relief and moseyed about the large space, intrigued by the moving portraits along the walls, many of whom she could only assume were former house owners or dedicated workers of the estate. They whispered behind covered mouths and fans whilst staring down at her. One elderly woman with a pinned bun, large, pointed nose, and bulky necklace rudely pointed at Hermione directly, and her jarring glare conveyed to the witch that she didn't approve of her attire, causing Hermione to blush to her roots and fumble to the closest door she could access. She bolted through to the other side, where darkness met her sight.

Hermione strained her eyes to make out her surroundings. This room was even larger than the last, decorated in gold garnishing and surrounded by mirrors. _A ballroom?_ she realised with pleasant surprise. _An actual ballroom?_

Hermione could hardly believe it. She was distracted by all the classy, old-worldly decor, gaping at the wonderment of such a unique space from another time, when she unexpectedly caught sight of herself in one of the nearby mirrors. Her aroused expression immediately flopped upside down. _Dear Merlin..._ She was a complete mess. Her curls were static after being thrashed about by the Scottish wind, and she had been in such a stir to get herself ready and on the road that morning that she had neglected to spruce up her face with an ounce of makeup. She was grossly pale and, as far as she was concerned, unpresentable. _Oh, bugger._

Hermione stepped closer to the mirror and frowned, spotting debris nestled within her disarrayed, expanded mop. She was just beginning to detangle a leaf embedded in a few of her knotted curls when the door she had entered through flew open, sending her twirling around and toppling backwards against the glass. Her heart plunged into the pit of her stomach at the intimidating sight of a tall, lanky male figure standing rigidly by the door, one hand clasped to the knob. He cleared his throat, his register low and foreboding, and directed Hermione out of the ballroom with a short, curt toss of his head.

Hermione obeyed without questioning and hurried back to the entryway, blushing with embarrassment as she bypassed the stern individual whom she could only surmise was the professor himself. His daunting, tense posture, exceptionally ashen complexion, and remarkably dark hair and attire, consisting of flowing, black robes, a handsome frock coat, and a cravat, practically screamed 'former Death Eater'.

Hermione eased back into the centre of the room, eyes fully absorbed and engrossed as Severus Snape seamlessly shut the ballroom door behind him and drifted towards her. His mannerisms resembled a cat—or, perhaps, a prowling, full-fledged panther was more suitable a comparison—suave and unassuming, as well as unmistakably threatening. His eyes were narrow, midnight in hue, the lines upon his face razor-edged and fierce. He also had an incredibly large, hooked nose that was curiously imposing and dramatic. His stringy, limp hair, too, was raven and draped rather handsomely over his shoulders; but he, himself, wasn't handsome at all. Severus Snape was something else entirely—something Hermione couldn't yet determine—and unlike anyone of the opposite sex whom she had ever encountered before in her short life. His presence was both exciting and nerve-wracking to behold, and Hermione swallowed hard as he approached her.

"Certain rooms in this house are not to be disturbed," he breathed lowly, richly, his piercing eyes boring heavily into Hermione's with such invasion that she couldn't prevent her bright flush of a response. "Do you understand?"

"Um... Yes, Professor," she returned, striving to reclaim her voice and self-assurance.

"Good." He started to slink around her but Hermione's entire form followed his noiseless footsteps. He threw back his shoulders, blinking at her with a mixture of uncertainty and offence. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Realising that she _was_ , in fact, ogling him, Hermione blushed scarlet. "Forgive me," she stammered, "but you don't look much like a..." Luckily, Hermione stopped herself before the words ' _former_ Death Eater' touched her lips. _Oh, bugger!_ she huffed to herself, annoyed with her ignorant blunder.

Supposedly sensing what had been on the tip of her tongue, Severus Snape's thin lips coiled into a sneer; the result should have been terrifying, and yet, Hermione was rather intrigued by it. "And _you_ don't look much like a governess, Miss... _Granger_."

"Hermione, sir," she politely suggested, wishing to steer the conversation in a positive direction.

"Quite." Severus Snape didn't seem interested in improving matters. He eyed her long and hard for what felt like an age and then gestured to her with a swivel of his right index finger. "Turn around."

Puzzled, Hermione did as the professor instructed, feeling sorely self-conscious once she was through. The professor's sharp scowl didn't help in alleviating her insecurities.

"No, this won't do at all," he determined with a small t'sk, giving a particular nod to the debris still lodged in her wind-swept curls. "They'll eat you alive."

Hermione blinked hard. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"The _children_ , of course." He stepped back, removing something silver and small from inside one of his coat pockets. "Please clean yourself up at once before you meet them."

"With all due respect, sir," Hermione found herself challenging on the spot, a sudden heat swelling in her chest, "I think what I'm wearing is perfectly suitable for meeting them."

Severus Snape's return stare was both critical and strangely suggestive. There seemed to be almost a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, though Hermione couldn't be sure. Regardless, it was entirely unhelpful. After a stifling pause, he brought his hands behind his back and replied coolly, "Very well, Miss Granger. If you already know what you're up against then be my guest.

"Now then," he hastily carried on, his deep register taking on an air of authority that had Hermione unconsciously straightening her posture; he began to pace back and forth before her, "you are the twelfth governess to look after my children. I hope you'll be an improvement over the last."

"Erm, the last?" Hermione prodded, the same scruples as before creeping into her conscience and, she suspected, onto her wary-looking face.

"The last governess lasted only two hours. A horribly incompetent woman," he added under his breath, with bite, though Hermione didn't overhear.

"Sir, what _exactly_ is wrong with the children?"

Severus Snape turned towards her with such speed that Hermione started, and his accompanying glare was scathing. "There's absolutely nothing 'wrong' with the children," he snapped at her, drawing closer. "Their past governesses, however... They were entirely lacking in the ability to control the children and to discipline them accordingly, with which this household can't function otherwise.

"These children are special, Miss Granger. They're gifted witches and wizards but they have also been cast out by wizarding society. It's why they live here. They've all been under my care for many years—some I've had with me since they were babies—and they _need_ discipline in order to thrive. They need a steady hand; a stable household in which to grow. Stability and regulation are crucial to the operation of this house. You understand?"

"I think so..."

Hermione fell quiet. From what she was gathering (and taken aback by), it sounded like the children weren't the professor's biological offspring at all. Yet, he had deemed them 'special' and spoke of them with a fatherly fondness that, despite his hardened exterior, was irrefutable. Hermione determined she would need to uncover more on their backgrounds and how they had come to be in Severus Snape's care but, for the time being, she smartly held her tongue, allowing the professor to rattle off his long list of rules.

"Madame Maxime tells me you were an exceptional student at Beauxbatons Academy in all subject areas?" Hermione beamed with pride at that, unable to prevent the sudden appreciation for her old headmistress, though Severus Snape projected no mirroring amazement. "You will need to carefully sharpen their wizarding skills, Miss Granger. Practicing magic outside of a school setting is normally forbidden in this country, but there are exceptions that have been made specifically for these children as they do not—and will not—attend a wizarding school in the foreseeable future. Therefore, it's imperative that they keep up with the studies and skill sets of their peers."

" _Never_?" Hermione blurted out, unable to withhold her surprise.

Severus Snape's response was nonchalant, and yet, firm and resolved. "The reasons are private, Miss Granger, and not of your concern. That is why _you_ 're here: to help rear and guide them forward, personally and academically. Do you intend to do so; or have I just wasted my valuable time?"

"I... No, sir. _Of course_ I want to help—"

"Very well," he swiftly cut her off. After staring at her carefully, Severus Snape dictated to Hermione, whilst walking around her in a circle, "Studying and lectures are from nine to five Monday through Friday, with one hour for lunch and two half hour breaks for snacks and to recharge their energies. Curfew is at seven o'clock sharp and bedtime is to be strictly observed at nine. No exceptions."

"Sir, um, when do they play?"

Severus Snape ignored Hermione and recited further protocols, "You will ensure that they speak and act with the utmost decorum. I won't have any foolishness or clamour or blatant disruptions in this house."

"Sir—"

"No foolish wand waving or use of magic outside of their direct studies either, do you hear? The last thing we need are any unnecessary screw ups that have the potential to land someone in St Mungo's."

"Yes, sir!"

Severus Snape whipped his head around, his returning gaze as sour as when Hermione had first arrived. Hermione wasn't sure what she had done to warrant such scrutiny, but she ignored it and smiled respectfully back. In truth, Hermione thought all of the professor's rules a bit much, but she made sure not to show any humour about it in his presence. He was undoubtedly prideful and she might lose this position before it even had the potential to begin.

"Now then," he concluded, with a sharp clearing of his throat, "I shall introduce you."

With a graceful flurry of his robes, Severus Snape turned his back and extended his hand into the air. A magical whistle that had been burrowed between his fingers hovered in the air and then let forth the most alarming, obnoxious screeches Hermione had ever heard. It sent her leaping back a foot or two and covering her ears with her hands.

Seconds later, there came the thunderous pounding of feet on the second level. Bodies popped out from behind closed doors, slammed them shut, and marched down the two dividing staircases. Hermione watched in utter bewilderment as the emergence of six children stomped into the centre of the room, where they clamoured to a halt and stood at attention like a group of soldiers.

One spot was vacant, however, and Hermione spotted the missing child in question when she slowly crept into the room, carrying a book in her hands that conveniently hid her face from the nose down. When the whistle ceased, she raised her eyes, startled out of the engrossed material in her hands. The professor came stalking up to her, snatched the book from her grasp, and wordlessly pointed to her empty place in the queue. She hastened forward and made to copy the other children's military-style stance.

The children were lined up in what appeared to be sequential order, from oldest to youngest. Severus Snape gestured for Hermione to pay attention as he instructed the magic whistle to present each of the children using their individual signals, all of which Hermione found objectionable, not to mention confusing. At each distinct call, one of the children swept forward at the whistle's command, offered forth his or her name, and fell back into formation like some (ridiculous) military drill.

Forgetting the whistle—or as much as her ringing ears would allow—Hermione made a point of memorising the children's names and faces. There was Liesl, the eldest child with a fair face and brown, sweeping shoulder-length curls; Friedrich, the eldest boy, with short, tight blond curls and striking blue eyes; Louisa, also a blonde, with wavy tresses and particularly mischievous eyes; Kurt, the youngest of the boys, with a roughish grin and a notable bowl-style haircut; Brigitta, the one who had missed the professor's call earlier, with long, black hair and hazel eyes that were wiser than their years; Marta, with brown hair, bangs, and a seemingly sweet disposition; and the youngest of them all, Gretl, with curly blonde locks and a shy but open face who failed to give her name.

By the time their introductions were through, Hermione was staring on, overwhelmed but charmed by each one of them. The children certainly seemed child-like in some respects, yet reserved and undemonstrative on the surface. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if their emotionless display was on account of the professor's militia-like fashion of running his household; or if, because of whatever their personal circumstances were, the children were growing up faster than they should.

Severus Snape disrupted the quietude that followed, and Hermione's inner musings, by stating in conclusion, "Miss Granger, these are my children." Hermione didn't miss the underlying warmth and affection to the professor's tone nor the slight smile that formed at the corners of his tight mouth. It didn't match the children's stiff stances or their lack of expression—at least, as far as first impressions went.

"This is your new governess," he informed the children's inquisitive faces, "Miss Hermione Granger. She will be overseeing your studies, and I'm counting on all of you to bring her up to speed on what you know.

"Miss Granger," he continued, with an acute turn of his head, "when I or the children need to call for you, here is your signal."

"Oh, that's hardly necessary, Professor—"

It was too late. Severus Snape gave a circular wave of his wrist and the whistle began to screech again. Hermione threw up her hands in protest. "I'm sorry, sir! _No_!"

The whistle went silent, but Severus Snape rebutted, "Miss Granger, this is a large house and the whistle saves valuable time."

"Why not just use your Patronus to message me, if you need to? I'd much prefer that to a—"

Severus Snape cut her off with a disagreeable hiss. "The whistle has proven a much faster and more effective tool, Miss Granger. I must insist."

"I'm sorry, sir, but _I_ must insist otherwise! Whistles are for dogs, cats, and other animals, _not_ for people! It would be utterly degrading to me to answer to one."

Severus Snape angled his head, and a grim line formed between his eyes. Hermione held her breath, wondering if she had just managed to sack herself. "Miss Granger," he breathed through flared nostrils, speaking deliberately slow, "were you this much of an objectionable nuisance at the Academy?"

Hermione knew she ought to be enraged but, instead, she smiled and shook her head. "Oh, yes, Professor. I'd argue that I was much worse."

Severus Snape said nothing to _that_. His lips formed a taut bind, and a hushed bout of snickering echoed from where the children stood. The professor seized the whistle from the air and, with an aggravated huff, held it out to Hermione to take. "Well, you are not the boss in this house, Miss Granger. You will take the whistle and do as I've instructed. You can make up your own call, if you'd prefer. Take it. Go on. The children can help you."

With much reluctance, and a disapproving frown, Hermione accepted the magical whistle into her possession. She had absolutely no intention of using it, however. A couple of the children giggled under their breaths, inspecting their new bold governess with intrigue and a covert wickedness that Hermione wondered was going to either work to her advantage or against her.

Then, to Hermione's added distress, Severus Snape abruptly made to excuse himself. Hermione tapped the whistle, which sailed into the air and whistled at her wordless command. Severus Snape swooped around, his sable locks settling like curtains around his harsh-looking face.

"Ahhh, I was wondering what your signal was, sir," Hermione said with a most daring grin that the professor didn't extend. He sneered most unpleasantly back at her.

"You shall call me _Professor Snape_."

With that, the professor swooped out of the room in a sea of black, billowing robes, leaving Hermione alone with the children. Her immediate, panic-driven reaction was to call him back, but her conscience stepped in before her nerves could get the better of her. _You can do this, Hermione_ , it reminded her once more. _Exude confidence, remember? Don't let them see that you're nervous._

The giggling in the room intensified as soon as Severus Snape was out of sight. Casting her attention back to the children, Hermione had a sudden understanding why they were laughing: the children were whispering to each other and pointing full-on at her head; or, rather, the leaves and debris still lodged in her untamed curls.

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to ignore their tittering. The tension in the air was uncomfortable and the jumper Hermione wore now felt exceedingly heavy and itchy. She tugged at the collar and stepped forward, clearing her throat to earn their attention, and the children quieted.

Noting the military stances still in play, Hermione shook her head and smiled. "At ease?" They obeyed that command, though merely by spreading their legs apart and bringing their hands together in front of them. They didn't fully relax. "Erm, all right then... Shall we get started?"

Hermione wrung her hands together, stretching her smile as her hopeful eyes roved over each child's face. The younger ones seemed genuinely fascinated with her, but the elder ones outright glared or stared on with an air of disinterest.

 _Oh, bugger... You've got your work cut out for you, Hermione._

Then again, Hermione Granger wasn't prone to stepping down from a challenge.

* * *

 **A/N #2 : Here we go...  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N : I have been blown away by the enthusiastic responses to the start of this story! Thank you so much!**

 **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. _The Sound of Music_ is copyrighted to and belongs to Rodgers  & Hammerstein. I'm just playing in their sandboxes. No money, just fun.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 _"When I'm feeling sad, I simply remember by favourite things_

 _And then I don't feel so bad."_

* * *

"Let's start by getting the formalities out of the way, shall we? You may all call me Miss Hermione; or Miss Granger. I'll answer to both. Please tell me all your lovely names again and how old you are."

Each of the children's shifty eyes glanced towards another—or several at a time—seeking their siblings' guidance on how to proceed. None of them appeared particularly forthcoming or wished to volunteer themselves to go first, but Hermione crossed her arms and waited, emanating extreme patience that she hoped would eventually help her to win these children over. She had no interest in being miserable at this job, and she was praying against hope that the professor's lot didn't intend to keep matters that way.

 _Following Severus Snape's exit the day before, Marta, one of the youngest, had been courteous enough to show Hermione the large, stuffy classroom in which their wizarding and muggle studies were held; but, after that, things took a nosedive. Hermione had practically leapt out of her skin when, moments later, something surfaced within the confines of her skirt pocket, tugging and fighting against the wool material. She had no idea which of the cheeky buggers had done it, but, as she reached in to retrieve whatever it was, the texture—slimy and slippery—caused Hermione to yelp and hitch a breath. She was able to keep from screaming outright, but only just. A toad hopped out of her hand and onto the floor, where Hermione angrily vanquished it with the use of her wand._

 _"You're lucky," came the unexpected t'sk from the housekeeper, a frumpy, redheaded witch with bright, sympathetic eyes who went by the name of Molly Weasley, "with the last governess, Miss Helga, it was a snake. They must like you."_

 _Hermione turned to the children, shocked and unnerved, and noted how a few of their faces fell, as if torn or feeling badly for pranking her; but they were hastily ushered away to take what was supposedly their 'daily walk' outdoors, whilst Hermione was led off to her bedroom by Mrs Weasley to deposit her belongings and get herself settled in._

 _Dinner hadn't gone much smoother, though Hermione thought she might be winning the littler ones over—at least, they seemed to bear a guilty conscience and some added remorse. Hermione had found herself late to the family dining hall, having gotten easily distracted on her way there by the glimpse of an enormous, spectacular library the professor apparently possessed. The grand oak doors had been wide open and practically beckoning Hermione to them. Her legs hadn't refused and her hungry fingers sought the closest tomes within reach, caressing them much like dear, old friends; but, before she knew it, ten minutes had passed and she was then racing the rest of the way to dinner._

 _Severus Snape wasn't impressed by the new governess's lack of punctuality (not that Hermione was at all surprised), and he expressed those sentiments plainly before she could so much as gather breath and take a seat at the designated opposite end of the table. The children were eying Hermione inconspicuously over their bowls of soup, and she suspected it had something to do with her changed attire—a simple white blouse and black trousers—as well as the missing debris, which had been successfully removed from her overgrown tresses._

 _Being late wasn't to be the only ill charge awaiting her, however, for as Hermione plopped herself down at the end, empty seat, something dreadfully small squeaked in response, sending her flying out of her chair. Her reaction started with a gasp and ended with a strangled laugh as she peered down at the culprit: a fluffy, bright-coloured Puffskein that quaked at being sat on._ You really _do_ have your work cut out for you _, Hermione lamented with a strained sigh._

 _"Miss Granger," Severus Snape cut in acerbically, dabbing his mouth with his napkin and raising a condemning eyebrow at her, "is that bit of spectacle something you practiced regularly at the Academy?"_

 _"No, Professor," Hermione mumbled, blushing to the roots of her hair._

 _"Then, perhaps, you should sit down and let us all eat in peace."_

 _Severus Snape then turned his attention back to his food, and the children followed his direction. After glancing them over disapprovingly, many of whom were suppressing giggles behind their spoons but otherwise avoiding her reprimanding stare, Hermione sat down and discreetly glided the quivering, furry creature onto her lap._

 _The accompanying silence that followed was near deafening to Hermione's ears. She hardly understood how the children, especially Gretl and Marta, could manage to remain so subdued; but they were as impressively mute as their older siblings, none of them uttering a single word. They slurped from their soup and displayed the most impeccable of manners, whilst Severus Snape, Hermione noted from her convenience of being directly across from him, nibbled at his platter but hardly took anything into his mouth._

No wonder he's so thin.

 _Unable to take the silence, not much time passed before Hermione took her spoon in hand and spoke up as graciously as possible, "I wanted to thank you all for the gift you left in my pocket earlier today."_

 _All seven sets of eyes immediately darted from their soup to their governess—some silently pleading with Hermione not to disclose their naughty joke; others, such as Liesl and Louisa, wordlessly dared her to speak up against them—and Hermione reacted by smirking, unaffected, and tasting her soup._

 _Severus Snape, too, reared his head in her direction. "What gift?" he inquired when she didn't elaborate, sounding both irritated and intrigued._

 _"Oh, it's meant to be a secret between us, Professor."_

 _Hermione saw Friedrich, Louisa, and Kurt let out the breaths they had been sucking in. Liesl rolled her eyes and turned to the professor. Brigitta stared on at Hermione, humoured by her game, and the youngest ones forced out their bottom lips._

 _With a slight growl, Severus Snape resumed eating and the children did likewise, though a bit less confidently than before, especially since Hermione didn't remain silent for long. "Knowing how nervous I was to be here in a new place with new faces, it was so thoughtful of you all to make me feel warm and welcomed. I shan't forget it."_

 _By now, the professor was grinding his teeth together as he stared across the table at Hermione, but faint whimpering to his right drew his annoyed eyes from Hermione to the little one with brown eyes and thick bangs. "What's the matter, Marta?"_

 _"N - Nothing, Papa."_

 _Hermione blinked. She hadn't heard that tender expression used for the professor until now, though she couldn't focus much on it. Marta and Gretl had sudden tears leaking from their eyes and had begun softly crying into their chests, covering their faces at Severus Snape's exasperated glances from one to the other. Friedrich, Kurt, and Brigitta all appeared less self-assured as well. Even the eldest, Liesl, seemed somewhat ashamed._

 _"Miss Granger," Severus Snape finally snarled, bringing Hermione's eyes back to his, "are we to expect this new ritual of yours, which includes causing the children to cry over indigestion, at every meal in the foreseeable future; or just this evening?"_

 _Hermione had to hold back her tongue to keep from retorting something snarky. Instead, she shrugged and stretched her smile. "I don't believe so, Professor. I think the children are simply happy and expressing that openly."_

 _Marta and Gretl cried harder. Liesl jumped out of her chair, begging to be excused and Severus Snape, bewildered by the entire spectacle, allowed her to go without issue. He looked to be on the verge of retreating himself._

 _Twenty minutes later, Hermione said her goodnights and took note of the fresh contrition in many of the youngsters' faces. She was desperate to know more about them, as well as her testy, sharp-tongued employer, and hoped that, with time and care, they might open up to her._

Today, the children, at least, seemed just as reticent as the previous day, with the exception of Kurt, Brigitta, Marta, and Gretl. The four of them were all smiles when greeting Hermione in their classroom that morning. The room had already been set up with writing desks, feathered quills, parchment, and the necessary textbooks for future lessons upon Hermione's arrival; but she wasn't about to just charge in without getting on a better footing with her students first.

At her polite request, Liesl was finally the first to break the ice, though she stuck her nose in the air as she rose out of her seat near the back of the classroom. "My name's Liesl," she declared through narrow, condescending eyes. "I'm sixteen-years old and have no need for a governess. I've done just fine on my own since I was orphaned at ten and brought to live here with Papa." Liesl slumped back in her chair and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest, waiting.

Hermione tried to offer a reassuring smile. "I understand, Liesl, and I'll still make myself available to you should you need me for any reason. You _will_ need me to teach you magic, after all, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me in that sense."

Liesl looked away, conveying her objection silently on that hard-hitting score, but then the eldest boy abruptly popped out of his chair, distracting Hermione. "I'm Friedrich," he addressed her with far more friendliness. "I'm fifteen-years old, I've been living with Papa for seven years, and I'm intolerable."

Hermione's eyebrows came together. "'Intolerable'? What makes you say that, Friedrich?"

"Miss Josephine said so, four governesses ago."

"Ahhh."

Hermione's smile widened across her lips as the young blond withdrew to his chair, smug that he had amused her, and then Louisa sprung forth from her seat. Her blonde, wavey locks bounced as she straightened and forced a smile Hermione instantly knew to be feigned. "I'm Brigitta," she lied, staring straight into Hermione's face. A trickle of snickers followed as the girl slithered back to her chair, refusing to say anything more.

Hermione gave a slight shake of her head. "You failed to tell me how old you are, _Louisa_."

The witch's self-satisfied grin slipped from her round, freckled face. She leaned forward and dejectedly brought her chin into her hand, grumbling under her breath, "Fine. I'm thirteen, and I've been here for three years. I love Papa, but there are times that I still miss my old family..."

Hermione felt her breath stall and her heart sink at that. She would have liked to inquire further but quickly reminded her too-spontaneous conscience not to get ahead of itself. It was vital that she not push the children away, and so quickly, too. Hopefully, through frequent interactions, she might uncover more of their backstories.

The real Brigitta, as if sensing the sensitive questions brewing about in Hermione's head, shot out of her chair and approached her, smiling brightly. " _I_ 'm Brigitta," she corrected for her sister. "I'm ten-years old, and I've lived with Papa for as long as I can remember. He's wonderful!

"You seem smart, Miss Hermione! I must say, though, your outfits are the ugliest I've ever seen! Aren't you from Beauxbatons Academy? Don't they dress really classy and elegantly in France?"

Hermione was bereft of words, to the point that her mouth simply dropped open instead. The self-conscious girl hidden inside of her peeked down at her present ensemble, utterly befuddled. _Ugly? Hardly!_ She adored her ruby-coloured jumper—perhaps it was a bit too worn but it was also light and comfortable for the season—and her boxy, beige trousers didn't present her with much curve-appeal but they certainly were practical, and wasn't that all a woman required?

"Brigitta, don't say that!" Kurt chastised, also standing up from his desk.

Brigitta immediately rounded on her brother. "Why not? Just look at this one! It's ghastly!"

"Well, yeah," the boy agreed, giving Hermione's attire a snort and a casual shrug, "but don't you remember Miss Helga's homely dress and crazy straw hat?"

Brigitta's pupils expanded. "Oh, you're right!" she exclaimed, her expression turning to one of disgust. " _That_ was monstrous!" She skipped back to her desk, still smiling, whilst Kurt stepped forward to introduce himself.

"I'm Kurt. I've been living here for four years, I _don't_ miss my family, and I'm twelve. Oh, and I'm terrible."

"'Terrible'?" Hermione wasn't sure at first how to respond, but, going by Kurt's crooked grin, she decided to play along. "Well, so long as you own it..."

"Oh, I do!" he stated proudly and, with that, marched back to his seat.

"Hello, Miss Hermy-i-one!"

" _Hermione_ ," she patiently emphasised for the little girl with big bangs, who was sneaking closer to her with her hands nervously pressed to her mouth. "And you must be...?"

"Marta!" she happily answered. She lowered her hands and presented Hermione with a rather toothless grin as one of her front large teeth was missing. "I've been with Papa since..." A series of concentrated wrinkles broke out on her forehead. "I don't remember," she hummed in conclusion. Then her soft eyes lit up. "Guess what, Miss Hermy-i-one? I'm going to be seven on Wednesday! I asked Papa for a wand! I want one that's red and has a phoenix feather!"

"Ahhh," said Hermione, bending lower to be at eye level with the sweet child. "I'm not sure you're old enough for a wand just yet, Marta, but, perhaps, you'll receive something else in that colour. Red's my favourite."

"Me, too!" she squealed and clapped her hands together as Hermione turned her around and escorted her back to her chair.

When Hermione turned back around to face the front of the classroom, Gretl, the youngest, had crept up behind her. She pulled lightly at her trousers, and Hermione dropped to her knees to peer into the curious toddler's doll-like face. "Yes, and you must be Gretl?" she greeted in kind, to which Gretl nodded with enthusiasm. Hermione reached out a hand to gently stroke the little one's cheek. "And how old are you, Gretl?" The little blonde presented her with five tiny fingers. " _Five-years old_? My, you're practically a witch already!"

Gretl tittered happily at that. She waited a moment, as if considering saying something, before she chanced a step closer and chose to be bold. "Miss Herm... Hermy..."

" _Hermione_. Yes?"

"Have you ever been a governess before?"

"Nope, this is my first time," Hermione confided in a soft-spoken voice. She inclined closer and gave Gretl a wink. "I know all about magic, though."

Gretl was thrilled, for her smile lengthened across her plush cheeks. She leaned into Hermione before any of the other children could descend on her with questions and whispered emphatically into her ear, "I like you, Hermy-i-one!"

Hermione reared back, deeply touched. "I like you, too, Gretl." The warm sentiments running through her veins intensified as Gretl bestowed her with another parting smile before she bounded back to her chair at the front of the class and folded her hands properly in her lap, respectfully waiting on her first lesson to begin.

 _Perhaps choosing to come here was a smart idea, after all..._

* * *

Hermione sighed, contented, as she gazed out her bedroom window later that evening as the sun was setting behind the mountains. Her first full day of instruction had gone fairly well. There were a few hiccups along the way, mostly having to do with keeping the children on task with their reading assignments and ensuring that no one tried to use magic when not mandated to do so; but, considering how terribly worse Hermione had envisioned things turning out, she would readily accept the few difficulties she had encountered without scruple.

Then her mind's attention drastically shifted. Those ever soft but inquisitive eyes honed in on the sudden appearance of a dark, lean silhouette she detected emerging from behind the trees, strolling into view as if out of nowhere: Severus Snape. There _'s an enigma I need to know more about..._ she wondered, unmindful of the thoughtful smile that slid onto her face.

The grounds at the back of the estate were a vivid spectacle to behold, with life-sized hedges shaped like dragons and swans and all sorts of creatures, both magical and benign, along with a series of enormous oak trees that shaded everything during the day. At the edge of the yard was a tranquil lake with a docked wooden boat, but Severus Snape hadn't arrived by means of aquatic transportation but seemingly the old-fashioned Muggle way: on foot. He didn't notice a highly intrigued, watchful Hermione observing him from her second-story window as he sauntered towards the back of the house, his dramatic, long robes sweeping along with purpose, his shoulder-length hair catching the light breeze that blew westward from the Scottish hillsides.

 _Yes, most definitely an enigma..._

The professor looked lost amongst the coming of night. As much as the shadows seemed to suit him, embracing his hawkish, midnight attributes as one might caress a lover, his eyes, like an endless black hole, were distant and in wont of... _something_.

Hermione shivered and tried to clear her head, wanting to refocus her lighter musings as to where the professor had been this evening. Severus Snape had vanished shortly after dinner without a trace, not informing anyone where he was off to, including the children, who all acted nonchalant over his sudden departure. Hermione suspected it must have been job-related, as he was a full-time professor at Hogwarts, after all, and, according to Mrs Weasley, spent most of his days at the school teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. There were apparently the occasional night shift patrol duties as well, and she wondered if that was the cause for his disappearing act tonight.

Hermione couldn't help but feel a little envious of him, too. She would love to, perhaps, someday soon lay eyes upon the wizarding school that was supposed to have been the academic home she would have attended had her mother not interfered on her behalf. She had visited it once before during the Triwizard Tournament, but her memories from that time were fuzzy. All she could really recall was spending more time with her nose buried in her books than partaking in the daily student activities.

Life would certainly have turned out much differently had she gone to Hogwarts, and that was something that Hermione pondered over often with mixed feelings. There would have been a horrible war and a battle to partake in, for one, something Hermione could hardly fathom of herself or her peers doing. She liked to consider herself a fighter, but there was no telling just how she might have fared against an actual Death Eater hell-bent on destroying her purely over her lack of magical blood ties.

In her years away at Beauxbatons, Hermione and the rest of the student body had learned all about their budding wizarding school, as well as the hard-won battle they had fought so fiercely against Lord Voldemort and his supporters and won. It was terrifying at the time to consider how such a maniac's influence might have spread to France and beyond, but it had been everyday heroes here in England who had prevented such a gross outcome, including none other than the strange man who was presently trekking towards the house: Severus Snape. Each time Hermione laid eyes on the professor, she was reminded of the sacrifices—and hair-raising misdeeds—he had supposedly made in honour of duty and servitude towards two sides, one good and one evil.

 _Maybe one day you can work up the courage to ask Professor Snape to take you to Hogwarts for the day and to talk about the war_ , Hermione tried to think positively, not staking much success on that ever occurring.

The mysterious wizard in question drifted out of view and, with disappointment marring her now glum face, Hermione stepped away from the window to glance over the stack of reading material taking up every corner of her well-sized writing desk. The candlelight made the titles somewhat difficult to make out, but that didn't alter Hermione's determination to study them cover to cover.

Earlier in the day, Hermione had taken the liberty of pursuing Severus Snape's unoccupied library during her lunch hour and was stunned into silence by the sheer breadth of his collection. As it turned out, his library was vastly larger than Beauxbatons', with many invisible stacks that only popped into view once Hermione had fully stepped inside the space and began to inspect titles.

What really took Hermione's breath away, however, besides the library's enormous size and volume, was the handful of books in Severus Snape's collection that pertained to Dark Arts practices she knew to be unavailable in most other parts of the world. _That_ instigated loud, jaw-dropping gasps from the ogling, too-curious young witch. She was completely unprepared to discover such controversial works sprinkled amongst his collection, available only at the top of the tallest stacks and requiring both a ladder and a wand to nab properly.

Hermione had had to be clever in transferring them safely into her hands. The basic wards in place were intended to protect the children from unintentionally snatching them up, but that didn't mean Hermione had any interest in letting them sit there and gather dust. She boldly ignored the protection spells and, within the hour, had worked a few of the easier ones out for herself.

Hermione spent most of that evening pouring over the books she was thirsty to learn more about. After devouring her first read, she was half tempted to start on a second volume about complicated spell work used in the treatment of Dark Potions when a peculiar noise outside her bedroom window jolted Hermione from her avid reading session.

Suddenly, the shadow of a slender figure started to enter Hermione's open window. In haste, she extracted her wand from its perch, nestled within her ponytail, and exclaimed, with her heart thumping wildly, " _Stay where you are_!"

The faceless individual froze before the swing of her opposite leg sent her unintentionally tumbling onto the floor, where she hissed and tried to nurse her banged up knees. With a wave of Hermione's wand, the light in her bedroom expanded, and a thoroughly shamefaced individual she recognised was revealed beneath the window pane. " _Liesl_!" Hermione gasped. Her shocked eyes darted from the window to the girl crouched on her floor and back to the window again. "How in Merlin's beard...? Did you _climb_ up here all by yourself?"

"Erm, yes," she answered, mostly into her chest. "Papa doesn't permit use of our broomsticks after curfew..."

"Be that as it may," said Hermione as she inhaled a calm-inducing breath and offered to help Liesl up from the floor, "that's incredibly dangerous! You could have been seriously injured!"

"Sorry, Miss Granger."

It came out more like a mumble than a concrete apology, but Hermione let it pass. She put her hands on her hips and scanned Liesl's torn periwinkle dress and dishevelled hair, both of which were usually perfectly set. There was also a small scratch on her cheek—she suspected from climbing up the side of the house—and her flat shoes were scratched up, too.

"Have you been out all this time by yourself, Liesl, or...?"

"Oh, yes! I... I took a walk after supper."

"Oh, an innocent walk, you say?" Hermione forewent playing along with the teen's fabrication. Did the girl not realise that she, too, had been a teenager not so long ago? Even if she was entirely inexperienced on _that_ front, Hermione knew perfectly well what most girls of that age tended to get up to. She suspected that the professor would _not_ be pleased or remotely impressed, if he knew. "All by yourself? At sixteen? No want for company whatsoever?"

Widespread panic flashed across Liesl's pretty eyes. Hermione's instigation was all it took to send her lunging forward and grasping Hermione by the hands. She squeezed them far too tightly. "Please don't tell, Papa, Miss Granger! _Please_! Oh, goodness, he'd be furious! I'd be grounded for _life_! We just talked; that's all! _I swear it_! I won't do it again—"

" _Liesl_ ," Hermione patiently spoke over her, stepping back from the panic-stricken youth so that the girl might better appreciate her new governess's grave expression. After a pregnant pause, Hermione flicked her wrist in the air. Liesl's body shivered and, when she glanced down a moment later, her garments were pristine and unmarked as before. Her widened eyes fell back on Hermione, conveying relief and a newfound respect for the witch that hadn't been there till this crucial moment.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, perhaps." Hermione reached out to gently press Liesl's shoulder and guide her towards the bedroom door. "Until then, we'll say goodnight and speak no more of it."

"And my climbing into your bedroom," Liesl blurted out, spinning around to face Hermione, "I'm so sorry, Miss—"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Hermione shuffled around her to open the door and, at once, shooed her away. "Off to bed with you!"

Slowly, the few desperate lines staining Liesl's features mitigated and disappeared. "Miss Granger, may I just say one thing more?" she pressed quietly.

"You may, so long as it doesn't pertain to the events of the past few minutes."

"No... I told you yesterday that I have no need for a governess." She smiled endearingly at Hermione and it wasn't false but exceptionally—and surprisingly—warm, taking Hermione aback. "I was wrong. Thank you, Miss Granger."

Hermione's heart lightened as she replied simply, " _Hermione_. And you're welcome, Liesl."

Just before Liesl took her leave, however, she added, "Oh! And another thing, Miss Grang— _Hermione_ : you might want to place a ward on your window. Erm, Louisa and Kurt like to climb up it to play pranks on the new governess. I suspect they've already got something wicked planned for you."

Hermione suppressed a laugh. "I'll be ready for them. Thank you for telling me, Liesl."

Liesl bowed to Hermione before noiselessly tiptoeing down the hallway and out of sight. Hermione closed her bedroom door and slumped against it, heaving a sigh of improvement. _Well, that went relatively well_. She shot her open window a most critical eye, however, and flicked her wand in the air. The window closed at her wordless command, and an impenetrable incantation was placed on it for added protection.

* * *

Hours later, Hermione was disturbed from her restful slumber by a frantic knock at her door. She scrambled to sit upright and peered about her darkened room, dazed and disoriented. The candles were almost all snuffed out save for two. Somehow, and not unsurprisingly to Hermione, she had dozed off at her writing desk whilst in the midst of reading one of the Dark Arts books borrowed from the professor's library. The last page she remembered reading was still open and awaiting her pursuing eyes, untouched except for a distinctive drool stain in the centre of the page where the witch had been contentedly snoring mere moments ago.

The harsh knocking brought Hermione brutally back to reality. Groaning irritably, she slammed the book shut and rubbed at her forehead as she stumbled towards her bedroom door. Who in bloody Merlin's name would be disturbing her at this late hour? _It must be two or three in the morning, surely!_ she grumbled as she threw the door open. Hopefully it wasn't one of the children choosing to one-up their grumpy new governess as Hermione was in no right mood to deal with _that_.

In a flash, Hermione was stirred from her drowsiness and foul disposition by the unanticipated sight of Severus Snape standing in her doorway, staring down his exceptionally long nose at her, obviously discontented with something she knew not. His harsh glare was like being doused in frigid waters, and Hermione swallowed and unconsciously retreated back into her personal space.

"Sir?" she inquired softly, addled by his presence. "Can I help you?"

"I should hope so, Miss Granger." He stalked inside without invitation and closed the door behind him using a twirl of his wrist. He took a few gradual steps further into the room, as if roving for something in particular, and then he whirled around to glare Hermione down once more, placing his arms firmly behind his back. "I trust you're starting to feel at home here?"

Hermione stared on, nonplussed by the professor's question. Had he actually banged on her door at roughly three in the morning to wake her up and ask how she was getting on? She shifted her weight to the opposite leg. "Erm, yes, sir, I am. Thank you."

"And making yourself at home has already extended to my private book collection?"

 _'Private'? Oh..._ Hermione's sight trailed to the speckle of thick tomes lying stagnant on the writing desk at the professor's back. Her guilt-ridden eyes drew carefully back to him, suddenly attuned to the disgruntlement marking his pale face and authoritative baritone. "Yes..." came her uneasy reply.

A muscle in Severus Snape's right cheek twitched. "Miss Granger, do you make it a habit of taking things in other people's houses that do not belong to you and without their permission? Was it something you perfected at the Academy?"

Hermione sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. "Sir, with all due respect, I thought your library was open to—"

" _To stealing my books_?" he came down hard on her, issuing a low, threatening growl that stopped Hermione short.

Her tired eyes blinked back in surprise. "What? Goodness, no! I'd never 'steal' anything from you! Why would you think—?"

Severus Snape's dark eyes formed two menacing slits. "Then just forbidden _Dark Arts_ material, I suppose?"

Hermione took a moment to gather her wits before speaking. "Professor, I don't appreciate being accused of stealing from you. As you can see for yourself, all of your books are accounted for and right there." Flustered, Hermione pointed adamantly to the writing desk behind him. "Borrowed would be a far more appropriate term, I should think."

"But hardly suitable to a thief!"

Hermione reared back, aghast, and placed her hands on her hips. She could feel a hot flush creeping onto her neck. "How dare you call me that! You want them back? You can have them!" She brushed past him, intending to gather as many books into her petite arms as she could manage but struggled with the weight load. When she spun around, the professor was startlingly close to her and her footing was momentarily lost. However, once she re-grounded herself, she shoved them forcefully against his chest. "And, for the record, I had every intention of returning them!" she huffed. "A man in a glass house shouldn't throw stones, especially when his cold remarks are so unfounded and disrespectful!"

" _Do_ elaborate, Miss Granger," he spurred her on, inching closer so that Hermione might catch her vehement reflection in his equally irate, raven-coloured eyes.

"A couple of these books have been banned inside the U.K. I know because they were banned from the Academy as well. It would be most unfortunate if the authorities were to uncover these, wouldn't it; especially when their owner so happens to be a Hogwarts professor _and_ a notable one-time supporter of Lord Voldemort!"

" _Don't say his name_!"

The booming force behind Severus Snape's voice rattled Hermione and left the man who was normally a tower of coolness unexpectedly quaking in his boots. The heavy books toppled to the ground, landing at his and Hermione's feet with a tremendous _thud_. For a brief moment, the only lingering sound was the professor's tense, uneven breaths.

Hermione let her excited heartbeats slow before she chanced reaching down to retrieve the fallen books. Once she had them somewhat secured in her arms, she rose to her full height and peered up into Severus Snape's now stricken face. He looked completely unraveled as she had never seen in him before and that prompted her to whisper an apologetic, "I... I'm sorry if I upset you, Professor." His striking eyes, previously focused on some other moot point in the room, flickered back to her. "I just... I'm _not_ a thief, and I meant no harm by borrowing these books. I didn't think your library was off limits. If you'll forgive me, I can ensure that they all find their way back to the library first thing in the morning."

"Miss Granger..." His voice sounded hesitant and flighty this time, and he surveyed her a long while before pestering, "What did you want with them in the first place? I demand to know."

"I..." Hermione froze up and settled for withdrawing her gaze. "We didn't learn much about the Dark Arts at Beauxbatons, Professor. We learned the basics, of course, but nothing extensive. _I_ thought we should have known more. The war could have reached our doorstep at any moment and..." Her eyes glanced up at him, noting how the ire in them was dissipating. "And we were frightened. We should have been better prepared. We _should_ have learned this kind of material so that we might better defend ourselves."

It was a lengthy time before Severus Snape finally replied; or so it felt to Hermione. He stiffened, adjusted a few buttons along the front of his frock coat, and projected a more vacant expression. "Well, you needn't concern yourself with that now, Miss Granger. The war's over. You have nothing to fear."

Making no more mention of what Hermione could tell was a highly sensitive topic, Severus Snape drifted past her towards the door. As he lifted his hand to grasp the handle, he slightly turned his head, and his regard was even more austere than previously. "I apologise for calling you a thief," he conveyed in a strained whisper. "You may burrow my books as you wish, Miss Granger, but I ask only that any of _that_ sort of material you check with me first in the future. I have no interest in those books falling into the children's innocent hands, you understand?"

Hermione cradled the books to her bosom and nodded. "I understand. Thank you, Professor."

"And another thing," he added, "those books may be illegal in most parts, but if you were to report them to the Ministry, you'll find that they've all already been registered."

"Oh, I... I'm sorry. That was an empty threat, Professor—"

"I was entrusted with their safekeeping before Albus Dumbledore..." He paused, and all the muscles in his face contorted and tightened. "Before he died."

Hermione's blood ran cold at the faintness to that infamous wizard's name. An uncomfortable, accompanying chill ran down her spine. She was aware of what Severus Snape had done to the great, aged wizard known throughout the world nearly two years prior; how he had been a spy for the Order of the Phoenix and a spy against the Dark Lord to whom he served; how he had 'murdered' Albus Dumbledore and was later acquitted of that charge by none other than Harry Potter.

Hermione was both reluctant and hungry to know more details but, smartly, her conscience held her back one more time. She awkwardly reconfigured the books in her arms and watched, with misfortune again, as Severus Snape walked out of her bedroom without another word. His footsteps grew fainter and fainter along the floorboards until she could no longer detect their retreat.

Once she had adapted to the silence, Hermione settled into the chair next to her desk and let out a tremendous sigh. A pained sort of frown formed along her mouth, one that didn't alleviate as she eventually blew out the remaining lit candles in her room and crawled beneath the bed covers to sleep.

Severus Snape may have been a Death Eater in the past, with a complicated history she only knew fragments about and a caustic demeanour to match, but there was something dignified as well as tragic about him, even now that the war had passed, that left Hermione's mind absorbed and captivated. She bunched the pillows around her head and shut her eyes, hoping to block out anymore contemplations about the puzzling professor in favour of sleep.

That was the first evening at her new post that Hermione dreamt of her employer, and the first of what would be a series of excuses for why he weighed so heavily on her mind in the weeks that followed, not the least troubling of which was, _You're lonely, Hermione. That's all._

* * *

 **A/N #2 : Thank you to those who review! _  
_**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N : Hmm...okay, well, moving right along...**

 **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. _The Sound of Music_ is copyrighted to and belongs to Rodgers  & Hammerstein. I'm just playing in their sandboxes. No money, just fun. Artwork is credited to Goraell on DeviantArt and entitled, "Prince and His Princess".**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 _"I must dream of the things I am seeking.  
I am seeking the courage I lack..."_

* * *

"Miss Hermione?"

"Yes, Brigitta?" she replied without so much as glancing up from her notes. She had committed each of the children's voices to memory by now.

"We... Erm, we wanted to apologise about last night. We never meant to get you into trouble with Papa."

Hermione froze the tiny blue birds floating about at the front of the classroom with a circular motion of her wand and cast her attention on the sweet-tempered, bookish ten-year old who seemed to take after her in every aspect but physical resemblance. Before she could begin her Charms lesson intended for the older children, Brigitta's unnecessary apology intended on behalf of herself and her siblings brought Hermione to a standstill. It was a heart-warming gesture and Hermione didn't miss how Friedrich and Kurt shrunk into the backs of their chairs, refusing to so much as glance up from their textbooks. Rather, they kept their noses buried behind them, evidently too engrossed in what they were reading to partake in this conversation.

 _Engrossed indeed_ , Hermione chummed, smiling at them despite their boyish antics. She shook her head and stepped around her desk. "There's no need to apologise, Brigitta. I'm still here, aren't I?"

Brigitta turned her head towards Liesl and Louisa, all three sisters wearing an expression of confusion openly. "But we heard muffled arguing—" Liesl started to pry, but Hermione swiftly interjected.

"Never mind that. Your father and I had a disagreement, that's all. Are you all feeling better this morning?"

"Yes!" Marta and Gretl shouted simultaneously.

Hermione scanned each child's mild-mannered face, searching for a guarantee. The boys remained the only two to not offer forth what she sought, though they did give adamant nods of their heads from behind their textbooks.

Hermione had expected her new role would present its share of challenges. In her first month at Severus Snape's estate, she had certainly been handed her fair share; but the post had also turned out to be much more emotionally satisfying than Hermione ever could have dreamt. What she thought might provide her nothing more than tedious babysitting responsibilities and little personal growth or stimulation had turned out wildly different, much to her relief.

Hermione welcomed problem-solving whatever disturbances and disruptions came her way, but her latest task had been more fun than an actual headache. Perhaps she should have nipped it in the bud at the very beginning, but her growing compassion and adoration for the children who occupied so much of her daily time had easily gotten the better of her senses.

One thing Hermione was still adjusting to was the moody weather patterns that so often clashed throughout the day. The storms in the Scottish highlands were, as she quickly unearthed, unprecedented—so much so that not only did they come to regularly disrupt Hermione's sleep but the children's as well. The first time all seven of them had scrambled into Hermione's bed during a late-night thunderstorm had been during her first few days on the job. Hermione hadn't known how to calm them but, eventually, she convinced the children to return to their beds.

With each passing storm since, they returned to her room, rushing into Hermione's bed so frequently that, by the end of the month, they had ceased asking permission altogether, knowing their pushover governess wouldn't—couldn't—refuse. The professor remained blissfully unaware of what was rapidly becoming a midnight ritual until the night before last. He had been bewildered and angry with the children, of course, but he was far harsher and more irate with Hermione for 'indulging' them, as he so severely put it. A short argument ensued, but Hermione tamed her outrage and let Severus Snape have his way. For now.

 _"You're_ not _their mother!" he had exclaimed once the children had been dismissed, slamming her bedroom door and muffling their surroundings to keep the children from listening._

 _A stunned, humiliated blush broke out on Hermione's face. "I wouldn't dare to presume that I was, Professor!"_

 _"Then explain yourself, Miss Granger!" he demanded, pointing an index finger decidedly at the ground._

 _"I've already told you: they're_ frightened _! I've tried everything I could think of outside of administering a calm-inducing potion to help them fall back to sleep, but I can't sooth their anxieties if I don't know precisely what they are; or how they came to be!"_

 _"What, just so you can use their weaknesses against them—"_

 _Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"_

 _"—as others have done?" he barrelled over her question with a passionate snarl. "So that you might toss them aside like unwanted shards of glass, as the Ministry did when their parents were taken away? When no one wanted to deal with them?"_

 _Hermione drew back, dismayed and bereft of words. Taking in her obvious distress, Severus Snape rounded on her in a mighty bout of advocacy, causing a stumped Hermione to stumble backwards so as to avoid colliding with him._

 _"They're orphans of war, Miss Granger," he declared with feeling. "Innocents who've witnessed some of the most detrimental Dark Magic and behaviour from adults whom they were supposed to be able to trust, including the very parents who bore and raised them! I knew their parents; I knew very well the sort of twisted magic they practiced in their homes and subjected their children to. No accountability! No remorse or regret whatsoever!_

 _"Now, their parents are gone—killed in the war or imprisoned in Azkaban for their crimes—leaving these helpless kids completely stripped of everything and everyone they knew. No one wanted to deal with the aftermath to the damage their parents' inflicted. No one! Not one bloody person gave a wretched arse about what became of these children!_

 _"You know why? Because they're Slytherins, Miss Granger; not that I expect_ you _to know what that means. Because they're the offspring of Death Eaters; because they're guiltless bystanders to the most gruesome wizarding criminals in recent memory, and yet, no one saw the abominable prejudice but myself. They have been forced to pay the heavy price for in their parents' failings: being outcast and ignored by a society that owes them the chance that was so unfairly and ruthlessly taken from them by their mothers and fathers!"_

 _When Severus Snape paused to catch his breath, Hermione took the small window of opportunity that afforded her to speak up, uttering in a soft, cautious whisper, "I... I had no idea." She tried to keep her voice measured, but it was quivering under the surge of emotions squeezing her heart in two. "I want to help them, Professor; I really_ do _... That doesn't deter me at all. If anything, it makes me want to fight harder for them. I've come to really adore them, Professor. Surely, you must sense that; that I have nothing but the best of intentions?"_

 _"Miss Granger," the professor sighed heavily and brushed a frantic hand through his hair, "I've made every painstaking effort to ensure that these children are well-cared for and protected here. This is their sanctuary; the only place in the world they feel safe anymore._

 _"I have little doubt that you care for them, but you've overstepped your boundaries in this manner. I'm well attuned to their troubles, including their inability at times to sleep, but it is_ not _your place to coddle them and turn them into dependents who won't be able to fend for themselves when the occasional storm hits."_

 _"What? That's_ not _what I'm trying to do! Don't you see? They need a little comfort and reassurance is all—"_

 _"That's_ not _what you're here to provide!" he growled in return._

 _It was Hermione's turn to round on Severus Snape and this time, undaunted, she stalked forward, craning her neck to give him a proper glare. "Then why_ am _I here, Professor? To turn them into soldiers? To force them into adulthood well before their time? Regardless of what they've been through, they're still_ children _, Professor. Shouldn't they be allowed to address their fears and concerns, their dreams and their wishes? Why can't you simply let them_ be _children?"_

 _"I_ do _allow that—" he countered defensively, but Hermione cut him off._

 _"You make them march about the grounds in perfect formation, for Merlin's sake! You keep them confined to a classroom most of the day! Forgive me, sir, I sense you want the best for them, but when do they play? When do you emotionally connect with them for more than five minutes at a time?"_

 _Severus Snape's eyes flashed dangerously. "Miss Granger—"_

 _"If providing them comfort from a storm now and then is such a wrongdoing—"_

 _"You're inflicting more damage and dependency!"_

 _Hermione reacted by glaring harder still. "No," she insisted whilst pointing a bold finger at him, "I'm doing what the parent should be providing! I'm doing_ your _job in your stead and, as you've made so very clear to me tonight, that's not_ my _job, is it?"_

 _Showcasing the utmost offence, Severus Snape didn't answer. The silence and tension in the air was stifling as he slowly inched closer into Hermione's personal space. Her heart pounded at their extremely close proximity, and the abrasive words that touched his lips next left her chilled to the bone, "I_ am _the parent, Miss Granger, and I don't take that ownership lightly, unlike_ you _, who will surely be in and out of these children's lives faster than they can spell Quidditch. You'd do well to remember that sobering fact whilst staying under the roof I've provided."_

 _Beyond aggravated, Hermione hissed back, "Yes, you_ are _their father, and yet, you also don't—"_

 _"That's right, I am. Good of you to acknowledge that fact. Good night."_

 _Before Hermione could get another word in, Severus Snape swept out of her room at all speed, shutting her door with enough gusto that she swore the walls responded by trembling. She dismantled the Muffling Charm that he had placed on her space and stomped her feet in frustration._

 _Prior to this evening's feisty row, Hermione had started to think she might be making headway with the surly Severus Snape. Now, she felt no closer to accepting him as he likely felt of her in return._

 _Deeply bothered by their exchange, she collapsed onto her bed, toed off her unsightly shabby slippers, and yanked the sloppy ponytail from its lopsided perch on top of her head with audible disgust. She went over their argument countless times more in her head that night, as well as the day that followed, and each recounting left her heart aching evermore for the seven poor faces who lived in this grand but too quiet, emotionally stagnant house._

In the end, Hermione had gotten some of the answers she sought about the children's backgrounds, but the information hadn't uplifted her spirits whatsoever. They were descendants of Death Eaters, unwanted by all of wizarding society. _Save for one_ , her mind kept reiterating. Outwardly, the professor may have appeared the most unfit candidate (and vexing beyond description to Hermione) but even she couldn't deny the passion and affection with which he spoke of the children, and that gave her hope. _He just doesn't know how to show it_ , she concluded, sighing sadly as her eyes roved over each of the young faces presently seated at their desks, waiting on her to begin their lessons.

Hermione had another idea in mind, though. "C'mon," she goaded, spinning on her heel to gather up her satchel and belongings. She vanquished the frozen birds from the air whilst all of the children ogled her, confounded, as she marched to the back of the classroom. Even Friedrich and Kurt had lowered their textbooks, uncertain of what was going on. Hermione's head popped back into the classroom a moment later, gesturing for them to follow her lead. "Well, don't just sit there like a bunch of codfish. Let's go!"

* * *

"It really _is_ visually stunning here. You've done well, Professor."

"I wish you'd desist in calling me that, Pansy. We're colleagues now. You're no longer my eleven-year old student."

"No, not quite," the playful witch concurred with light-hearted laughter and a flirtatious toss of her head. The shine in her straight, black bob was captured by a few soft rays peeking through the trees. "I'm a teeny, tiny bit older now, aren't I?" She reached over and gently nudged Severus Snape's arm, offering him a fun-loving wink as well.

The professor reacted by allowing the slim tug of a smile to show, though only for her amusement, and averted his eyes towards the pebble-covered walkway they strolled over. They had been aimlessly wandering and talking for much of the afternoon, about everything and nothing at all, and it was just the sort of outing Severus Snape realised he required.

"Yes," he agreed a moment later, "and you're still as sly as you ever were."

The handsome witch named Pansy feigned offence, bringing a hand up to cover the shiny broach adorning her chest. "Whatever do you mean, _Severus_?"

"I think he's implying that he's on to your tricks, love," a suave-looking blond intervened from a few feet behind them, forcing their easygoing banter to cease. They whirled around and stared. The striking wizard who had spoken strolled closer, carrying an embroidered, silver cane in one hand. His short, slicked-back locks and fine, two-button grey suit with a green tie looked impeccable beneath the stunning backdrop of the professor's estate. His smug grin was something else entirely, however.

"Oh, stop it, Draco!" Pansy giggled at him. She reached out and patted the wizard's chest. "I have no tricks up my sleeves to speak of! Us Slytherins have no need to be as cunning or as secretive as we used to be, do we?"

"Speak for yourself," Draco snorted.

Severus Snape merely rolled his eyes at the pair of them and, quietly, they resumed their mindless stroll across his property, with Pansy on his arm and Draco on her opposite side. It was rare for the professor to entertain guests, but, since the war's end, he had found amicable, pleasant companionship in the form of his godson, Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson, a former student and now acting Potions apprentice at Hogwarts. There were only a handful of confidants Severus Snape had recently confided in about the seven children he had undertaken care of over the course of the war. Draco and Pansy were two of those select few who made up his precious circle of knowers, and he intended on keeping it small. The last situation Severus Snape desired was for any of those prying numbskulls from The Daily Prophet to come snooping about, alarming the children and relaying seven woeful tales to the rest of nosy wizarding Great Britain.

Pansy and Draco had been most anxious to assist Severus Snape the moment he opened up to them about the children. Ever since, neither of them had ceased hounding the professor to accept their financial contributions of charity and goodwill, but Severus Snape adamantly turned down each offer. After all, he had plenty of money to go around; he had always been meagre with the money he had earned as a younger professor and kept silent about the fortune he inherited from his mother's side of the family, the Princes. He hoped giving his inquisitive godson and Pansy a tour of the reestablished family estate, which he had purchased from its previous owner five years ago, would officially put their hounding to bed.

As predicted, they had been awestruck by its splendour, especially Draco, who had no idea the extent of his godfather's wealth. Still, Severus Snape guesstimated that there would be more monetary offerings coming his way once Draco and Pansy met his children for themselves. He was rather looking forward to his friends seeing how wonderfully captivating each of them was. _That_ gave the normally confidential, quiet wizard's heart pause.

"I admire what you're doing, Severus," said Pansy, picking up where their conversation—and his mind—had left off. "I know how much they mean to you, and I can only imagine the progress they've made since coming to live with you here in such a lovely place."

"You'll be able to judge their strength of character for yourselves later this evening. They're a little shy of strangers, especially Marta and Gretl, but they'll warm up to you with time."

"I hope so," Pansy replied with a rose-tinted smile before Draco changed the subject.

"How goes your newest governess?"

Severus Snape replied, with some reluctance, "She's...suitable."

"'Suitable'?" Draco chuckled, reading his godfather's reserved, tight-lipped response. "That's it? Poor woman. None of them can ever rise to your expectations, can they? How many have you fired? Seven?"

"Five, actually. Six quit, and good riddance to them."

"Wait..." Draco paused, his mouth dropping open in shock. " _Eleven_ governesses in all?"

"Indeed." Severus Snape met the young man's comically gaping stare, unperturbed. "Miss Granger's the twelfth."

Draco fell silent, the wheels turning madly behind his steel blue irises. All three adults silently turned a corner and followed the pebbled walkway farther down the lakeside.

"You seem far more yourself here, Severus."

Severus Snape turned to Pansy with an amused air. "And what's that?"

"Thoughtful, relaxed," Pansy considered him whilst smiling mirthfully, "and, if I may say so, a _lot_ more engaging." Draco laughed and Severus Snape, still humoured, shook his head. "And nicer, too!" she tacked on, squeezing his arm and bringing their stroll to a halt.

The professor raised a defiant eyebrow at the spirited, sultry-looking woman on his arm. "Then I must do better from now on."

Pansy clucked. Draco wisely chose to fall behind them again so as to allow their female companion and the professor to walk on, alone. There was a thoughtful pause before Pansy broke the silence with a remark, one that was subdued but heartfelt, as she leaned into Severus Snape and caught a whiff of his masculine scent. "Thank you for inviting me, Severus," she whispered close to his ear. His dark eyelashes fluttered in response, though much of his profile remained hidden behind inky, long strands of hair. "I hope this will be as meaningful a visit for you as it's already proven for me."

Severus Snape straightened and didn't reply, though Pansy could have sworn she caught the professor blushing. They fell back in synch, completing the rest of their walk in what was, for one of the two, an easy-going silence.

* * *

"Papa's having visitors tonight?"

"Yes, Kurt," replied Hermione as she rearranged her now sore, crossed legs into a more comfortable seated position. She settled for straightening them out and closed her eyes, enjoying the light mountain breeze that whiffled her curls and brushed them off of her shoulders.

"From where?" piped in Louisa, pausing the Charms incantation she was practicing on Friedrich's nose, which had elongated to three times its size; she raised her head from her relaxed, supine position on her stomach.

"From Hogwarts, of course! Who else would come by?" Kurt called to his sister from feet away, where he sat practicing his own incantation on Hermione, whose freckles had darkened and enlarged to an abnormal size.

Hermione and the children had picked out this convenient, picturesque spot on a low hillside to practice magic after a long day hiking and exploring the Scottish outdoors. Now, they were all scattered about, with Hermione observing them and relishing how improved their spirits were. It was only recently that she had begun recognising positive shifts in their attitudes but also in their studies. Each of the children appeared to rather be enjoying learning and practicing magic now, whereas before, they had been standoffish and timid. Hermione suspected that that had something to do with whatever ill treatment they had received in the outside wizarding world prior to Severus Snape's interference, and it was heartening to see their confidence gradually but steadily building. Inwardly, it boosted _her_ confidence as well.

"Miss Hermione?"

"Yes, Louisa?"

The freckled blonde cast a spell and Friedrich's nose returned to its normal shape. "Can we come here every day?"

Hermione chuckled. "Wouldn't you tire of it after a while?"

"Well...then every _other_ day, perhaps?"

Hermione's smile turned purposely wicked. "I'm not sure your father would approve."

"He doesn't approve of a _lot_ of things," Kurt corrected her, suddenly inspecting the practice wand his father had bestowed on him and his older siblings with greater attention than was necessary.

Hermione bent forward and poked the sullen boy's left knee. "He's just looking out for you, you know."

"I know, I know," the boy muttered before his eyes livened. "Anyway, I haven't had this much fun since we filled Miss Josephine's room with Decoy Detonators!"

Hermione's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "Where in Merlin's name did you acquire _those_?"

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!" Marta answered for her brother, tittering with glee from where she sat cross-legged in front of Liesl. She had happily volunteered herself to be her eldest sister's guinea pig for the afternoon, permitting the witch to practice transfiguring her into a number of household items. Her last transformation had been into a pocket watch, but now she was momentarily back to her old self.

Hermione cocked her head sideways. "I've never heard of such a place. Is it new?"

"It's in Diagon Alley," Liesl explained casually over her shoulder as she prepared to cast another transfiguration spell. "Papa takes us every so often and lets us pick out things that we want."

"The Decoy Detonators were my idea!" Kurt boasted with pride, raising his chin.

" _Of course_ they were," Hermione couldn't help but laugh along. She regarded Kurt and his siblings with care. "I still can't believe children as sweet as you lot can play such naughty games on people!"

Louisa and the other children cackled. "It's simple, really!"

"Yeah, how else are we to try to keep father around?"

Hermione's eyebrows tapered together. She turned her head towards the male voice who had spoken. "What do you mean, Friedrich?"

Friedrich wasn't apparently keen on answering her, though. He shrugged his shoulders and lowered his eyes. It was Liesl who wound up gingerly responding in his stead. "Well..." she started. "Some of us still remember what it was like living in the system. It can be a bit nerve-wracking at times when Papa's away on work, so we try to get his attention any way we can. We just...want to make sure he's going to stick around..."

"He says he will," Kurt pointed out, and there was a reverberating agreement that travelled amongst the children.

"I have to agree," Hermione added, hoping to reassure them all. "I don't think any of you have to worry about your father going anywhere."

"But some of us might have to..."

Hermione glanced at Louisa's saddened expression and it was Liesl, again, who explained on her lamentable sister's behalf, "Papa's still fighting to adopt a couple of us..."

" _Still_?" Hermione was taken aback at learning this development and unable to disguise her shock.

Each of the children's faces slumped, matching Liesl's, who continued with a despondent nod. "Friedrich's uncle has been fighting Papa for custody for two years; so is Louisa's mother—"

"Even though they _both_ fancy the Dark—" Friedrich ground out, his jaw set, but he abruptly cut himself off. "It doesn't matter. Louisa's mum is trying to work out a plea deal so that she can have her back once she gets out of Azkaban."

Hermione's eyes gently considered the strapping young boy who was now silently gnawing his teeth, as well as Louisa, who brought her knees to her chest and recoiled from her governess's attention, though she uttered, her voice entirely void of cheer, "My mum is...not well. I'm much better off where I am, but it's not up to me. I don't want to leave Papa."

"None of us do," Liesl conveyed delicately, even if her circumstances didn't match her younger sister's.

"So, you see?" spoke another, sounding terribly morose and withdrawn; that drew Hermione's eyes in the speaker's direction. "You don't know the half of our wickedness, Miss Hermione..."

Hermione's disheartened gaze landed on the fragile face of Brigitta, who was staring glumly at the ground, frowning and tearing at a bit of grass. The rest of the children had gone silent and still as well, including Marta and Gretl, who scooted closer to sit next to Hermione.

"Actually I _do_... A little." All young eyes darted to Hermione, including Brigitta's, their nervous, suspicious eyes twitchy but holding steadfast to her. "Your father told me more about your...your backgrounds. I may have only learned a few crucial details about each of you, but I can tell you this much: _none_ of you are _actually_ wicked."

The hilltop was unusually quiet and sombre. Marta was the first to finally break the stillness with hushed words that broke Hermione's heart to hear, "The rest of the world seems to think we are..."

"Well, they're _wrong_." Hermione pulled the seven-year old, now on the verge of tears, into the tightest hug she could give. "And the Ministry of Magic are hardly 'the rest of the world', mind you. I promise you, you're all wonderful and good and utterly charming and I've very much enjoyed getting to know each and every one of you."

A flow of appreciative smiles reacted to Hermione's remarks, some less buoyant than others but still affected, all the same. "Really, Miss Hermione?"

Hermione peered down at Gretl, who was staring up at her with re-established hope in her perfect, plush little face. It yanked at Hermione's heartstrings, for it was an introspective gaze that seemed far too old for a five-year old to possess. " _Really_ , Gretl," she whispered back to her, bringing them nose to nose. Gretl giggled and broke into a smile.

"As for the naughty games you like to play," Hermione added, sharpening her regard, "I expect you all to be on your best behaviour tonight. Understood?"

Kurt scrunched up his nose. "Why's Miss Parkinson coming to visit us anyway?"

"I don't know, Kurt, but I'm sure your father has his reasons."

"I think Papa fancies her," Louisa snickered, pressing a hand to her mouth. "They spend a lot of time together."

"Oh?" Hermione found herself surprised yet again.

"Because she's an assistant professor, Louisa," Friedrich tried to reason, looking as though he had just swallowed something foul. "They're co-workers."

" _I_ think they're something more!" Marta assented, bouncing on her knees and chuckling alongside her sisters, Liesl and Louisa.

Friedrich, Kurt, Brigitta, and Gretl didn't seem to approve—or concur—with the others, but they said nothing more against Miss Parkinson. Hermione, too, went mute once she had gotten the children back on track with their lessons, unable to keep her mind from wandering to Severus Snape and this lady he was supposedly courting.

What was she like? Was she suitable for the children? Did she even _like_ children? _Surely, the professor's considered all of these matters, Hermione_.

In that case, it shouldn't have been a concern of hers. Yet, for some exasperating reason she couldn't yet crack, it troubled her. An awful lot.

* * *

"More sherry, Mr Malfoy?"

"How many have I had, Alfred?" Draco inquired presumptuously as he inspected his empty glass, turning it over in his pale hand. The glass caught fragments of light captured by two high windows on the opposite side of the room.

"Two, sir," the stiff butler answered, unamused, whilst holding out the silver tray that contained another sherry.

"Well, then why stop there? It's too delicious."

Undeterred, and apparently well on his way to getting pissed, Draco snagged his third glass, grinning like the former naughty schoolboy he had once been. He missed Pansy's subsequent t'sk of disapproval, as well as Severus Snape's eye roll from where he stood idly next to one of the high windows. It provided a tranquil view of the lake but, for Severus Snape, it also served to calm his nerves whilst waiting for the children's classroom session to draw to a close.

Once the butler had exited the expansive sitting area—detailed in deep, royal blue and green fabrics and chestnut wood furnishings—Draco cast his sights on Pansy, eying her as discreetly as possible over his glass of sherry. Even though his godfather's back was turned, Draco swore sometimes that the astute wizard had a second set of eyes stapled to the back of his head.

Pansy was otherwise occupied with her goblet of elderflower wine, sipping daintily from its rim whilst her curious eyes roamed the room. She would try and peer over her shoulder at the professor every now and then, but, since their late afternoon stroll, he hadn't spared either of them his full-on gaze.

Draco mouthed to Pansy and got her attention. He acutely nodded towards his godfather's stoic silhouette, silently imploring Pansy to 'make her move', as it were; but she simply batted her eyelashes at her friend and dismissed Draco with a frisky wave of her wrist.

"This wine is exceptional, Severus," she declared after a long pause, earning the wizard's regard; he whirled around to face her. She hadn't stirred from her comfortable perch on his regal sapphire couch. "Better than Hogwarts, I'd wager!"

Draco clucked into his glass. "Be careful, Severus, lest you spoil her to the point of no return."

"I fear I'm too late," the professor deadpanned, to which Pansy giggled into her goblet and Draco smirked.

They soon strayed onto a far graver topic that was instigated by Draco. "Might I turn everyone's attention to something else; something that requires a heavy excess of alcohol in order for me to so much as breach the subject?"

Pansy flashed him a cheeky smile. "Well, thank goodness! I was beginning to worry we'd never see the overly dramatic side to you again, Draco."

"You know I can't help myself, love." He paused to clear his throat, his fair eyes darkening. "I trust you've both seen The Daily Prophet's headline this morning?"

Pansy's becoming grin vanished. Severus Snape's unreadable stare returned to the window, prolonging the uncomfortable silence that followed, until he finally replied with a soft-spoken, "Indeed," that wasn't encouraging by its delivery.

Draco waited another moment or two before pressing on, his tone strained and riddled with concern. "You don't seriously believe the Ministry would be so stupid as to brandish such a move, do you?"

"I hardly know what to think of this country anymore."

That sobering remark hushed the professor's company, both of whom flashed each other worried glances from their seats across the room. Pansy's eyes fell back on the lanky, fluid outline of Severus Snape again. "I don't think it will come to that," she tried to offer up as lightly as possible, but her words didn't match the apprehensions she had donned seconds ago. "We've just been through a war. We're trying to rebuild our lives. People are off their rockers if they think we should revert to such drastic measures of the past when it comes to future blood ties through marriage, property settlements, and procreation—"

"The Ministry's out of its depths," snarled Severus Snape, keeping his back turned away from his guests; his entire stance was rigid, yet resolved. "They know they have to try to save face after Fudge botched things up royally before the war broke out. Shacklebolt was the most fair-minded, best-suited minister that ever happened to that corrupt institution, and now look what they've gone and done: Shacklebolt's been run out of office by his own overbearing staff, Nottingham's become his ill-suited replacement, and the Ministry's as backwards as it ever was. Instead of punishing those who deserve punishing and protecting those they're supposed to serve, _everyone_ 's a potential scapegoat now."

"It's all fear-driven hogwash," Draco attempted to play down, though he continued looking on, uneasy. "Nothing will come of Nottingham's proposals."

" _Oh_?" Severus Snape whipped his head sideways, meeting their stares with a warning-like glare. "Was it not fear and paranoia that spurred the Dark Lord's return to power? Really, Draco, after living through what has surely been hell for you and your parents these past excruciating years, I should think you not so brash as to dismiss matters of this magnitude. It will be that same fear mongering that allows Nottingham and his supporters to get away with unjustly harassing the wrong people."

"If he instates these legislations he's proposing, Severus, then I'm not sure how we can stop him."

" _'We'_?" Severus stunned them with his derided laughter; it came out clipped and harsh. "No, no. _If_ these legislations pass, the children and I will move far away from here and never look back."

"What, leave Hogwarts?" Pansy's ears perked up, alarmed. "For _good_? Where would you go?"

"I don't know." Severus Snape shrugged, composed, and peered out the window once more, his hard-lined scowl intact. "I've always wanted to see Australia."

Draco's eyes gleamed in response. "You never struck me as the adventuresome type, Severus."

The professor met his godson's light joshing with a direct, arched eyebrow. "You'd be surprised," he countered softly, holding Draco's and Pansy's gazes.

"Oh, leave him alone, Draco!" Pansy flitted her wrist at the taunting blond and hopped up from the couch, taking a moment to mindfully readjust her form-fitting, forest green dress that so handsomely showcased her curviest attributes. She then moseyed over to Severus's side. "I, for one, love a man who's up for a game of chance!"

"That most certainly is _not_ my godfather, love," Draco chortled, giving a small shake of his head.

Severus Snape's stony expression didn't falter, but his eyebrow rose another inch. "People change...when they're permitted to let go of the past."

Pansy inclined into his side, slinking her fingers around one of Severus Snape's arms. His attention had returned to the view of the lake, those sable-coloured eyes suddenly very far away from her. "And what have you let go of, Severus?" she whispered—purred, rather—into his ear.

His words were slow and considerate when they came. "Past regrets... Missed opportunities... Shackles that used to bind me to actions I can never take back..." His pained words trailed off, dark irises rousing at movement they descried out by the lake. "A boat full of seven— _eight_ —people floating closer to... _What in Merlin's name_?"

In the blink of an eye, Severus Snape had unhooked his arm from Pansy and charged out of the room, robes flying like a swarm of crows behind him. Pansy and Draco locked eyes, completely befuddled. After a swift recovery, they scrambled after the professor, following on his livid heel.

* * *

" _OHHH_!"

Molly Weasley shuffled out from behind the eight-burner stove and wiped pearls of sweat off her brow. Some of her frizzy red hair was sticking to her forehead, but the otherwise absorbed cook hardly cared. Hot flashes, accompanied by working in too stifling conditions, had become her daily strife in life.

"Pardon, dear?" she inquired with curiosity, spotting a huffing, highly charged Hermione leaning against the kitchen door.

" _Oh, he's absolutely, positively infuriating_! _Confound it all_!" She stomped her foot and clenched her fists. All of a sudden, she seemed to realise the red-headed witch holding a steaming pot with two mitten-covered hands gaping openly at her. "My apologises, Mrs Weasley. I, erm, I didn't mean to barge in—"

"Nonsense, child." Dismissing Hermione's apology, she muddled back to the stove to place the pot on another burner and padded to a gigantic island in the centre of the old-fashioned, yellow-painted kitchen. She hopped onto a stool and gestured for Hermione to join her. "All governesses come to me to express their grievances eventually. Sit, sit!"

Hermione collapsed onto the stool that was offered to her before eying Molly over with fresh surprise. "They do?"

"Well, some much sooner than others," Molly confessed with a chuckle, brushing absentmindedly at her dirty apron. "You've done remarkably well at holding out until now!"

Hermione attempted a smile but it was half hearted and easily slipped her face. "How do you stand it?" When Molly only angled her head, not following, she pressed with resentment in her tone, "Working with the professor?"

"Ahhh..." Molly addled Hermione by grinning suggestively; there was a knowing twinkle in her kind-hearted eyes that the young witch didn't understand. "I've known Severus Snape a long time, since he joined the Order of the Phoenix back during the first wizarding war. We were allies, you see. He taught all of my children at one point or another. He was never the most approachable or sociable fellow, and he's quite strict as a professor and as a father, but I've never had any personal qualms with the man."

" _Never_?" Hermione couldn't fathom that to be so. " _Not once_?"

Molly's light-hearted laughter didn't help. "No, never! Despite knowing him for some time, I don't know him well enough to quarrel.

"I have seven— _six_ —children of my own, Miss Granger." Molly had stopped to correct herself, and her voice caught at the back of her throat. She took a moment to collect herself before carrying on, "A couple years after my youngest, Ginny, left for Hogwarts, I was feeling quite down and depressed. My husband, Arthur, and I have never adjusted well to being empty-nesters."

The pleasant, plump cook presented Hermione with a warm but somewhat distant smile—one that was evidently plagued by underlying heartache—but then she continued as if there had been no pause, "Well, I guess Severus heard through the grapevine that I was feeling rather down at home in my lonely house and offered me this job. It's been a godsend for me ever since."

" _It has_?"

"Oh, goodness, yes! I can't spend much time at home anymore..." The lines on her face strained. "Once you've lived with seven—pardon me, _six_ —rowdy children for so many years, and then they've all up and grown and are out leading their own lives, the house is... Well, it's not the same anymore. It's too quiet for me; Arthur understands that.

"I love being here at the estate, making hearty meals for the children; seeing that all their things are in order; helping Severus to ensure that the environment they live in is warm and well cared for, poor dears... I have a _purpose_ again, Miss Granger, and I do so appreciate the professor for giving that back to me."

Hermione wiggled her nose, still puzzled. "Mrs Weasley—"

" _Molly_ , dear."

"Molly, if you don't mind me asking, why didn't he offer you _my_ position?"

"Oh, believe me, he did." Her eyes blazoned with humour. "I turned him down. I may adore children, Miss Granger, but I've already raised my brood. I wasn't interested in undertaking something of _that_ magnitude again. Goodness, no! I haven't lost _all_ my marbles just yet!"

"I see..." Hermione raised her elbows onto the table, settling for an exasperated groan she couldn't hold back. "Well, I'm not sure what else _I_ can do at this point. It's all so frustrating! I don't want to leave the children but—"

" _Leave_?" Molly shot her a troublesome frown. "Oh, dear... Severus hasn't sacked you, has he?"

"In so many words, yes."

Seeing Hermione fighting to hold back tears, and distraught by the news, Molly bunched up her apron and leaned in to gently pat Hermione's hand. "Tell me what happened, dear."

* * *

 **A/N #2 : Thank you to those who review...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N : Thank you _so, so_ much for the continued enthusiasm and support of this little story of mine! I'm so moved by your positive responses. It really ****means more to me than you know.  
**

 **We're at the halfway mark with this story, so here we go...  
**

 **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. _The Sound of Music_ is copyrighted to and belongs to Rodgers  & Hammerstein. I'm just playing in their sandboxes. No money, just fun. Artwork is credited to Goraell on DeviantArt and entitled, "Prince and His Princess".**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 _"Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow  
Bloom and grow forever..."_

* * *

 _"Look, it's Papa!" exclaimed Gretl, who began waving and jumping enthusiastically from inside the lakeside boat._

 _"Easy, Gretl," Hermione ordered the little one to desist but, by then, Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, and Marta had joined in on the fun, howling with laughter as they made to wobble the boat back and forth. "You're going to tip us!" Hermione squeaked, though the children's incessant cackling soon made her unable to control her own fits of laughter._

 _"Stop it!" Brigitta whined, the only individual not partaking in her siblings' good fun. She clutched the book she was reading protectively. "Miss Hermione, make them stop! I'm trying to read!"_

 _Thinking fast, Hermione charmed the book with a waterproof spell, somewhat resigned to the rest of the children's playful antics. She could only hope they would be able to reach the water's edge in time before either falling into the water or, worse, running into the professor. He wasn't privy to this sporadic outing, and Hermione intended to keep it that way—at least, until they were safely back on the wizard's property._

 _Alas, as the unsteady but magical boat, which steered itself, veered closer to where it would eventually dock, Hermione caught sight of the very person she had been praying to avoid: Severus Snape. He was looking on, awaiting their arrival with both hands securely at his back, and wearing the most dreadful scowl that forewarned Hermione of brewing trouble ahead. She also spotted two strangers sprinting to the scene and startled. The professor's company wasn't expected to arrive until nightfall, and she and the children were hardly presentable after rolling around in the outdoors all day long._

 _Hermione discerned a blond male with a dignified face and impish grin standing behind Severus Snape, as well as a striking young beauty with a perfectly cut bob and seductive, dark eyes, though she seemed far less impressed, either with Hermione, the children, or, perhaps, all eight of them._

 _Hermione made to politely smile and present herself but that wasn't to be, for the boat suddenly tipped too far to the right, and she and the children found themselves diving head—or feet—first into the lake. Splashing and squealing erupted as the boat collapsed beneath their combined weights. Hermione popped her wet head up just in time to catch Gretl from getting sucked underneath the water._

 _Severus Snape's commanding growls to "get out of the water at once!" barely registered above all the commotion but, somehow, the children hastened out of the lake one by one, drenched and remarking on their soaked clothes via amused snorts and giggles; but the joy of the moment was quickly dashed when they were met by their father's stern glare of disapproval, as well as the embarrassing realisation that he wasn't alone._

 _"Straight line!" he ordered and each of the children swiftly fell into formation, holding their breaths._

 _Hermione stepped forth from the water last, drawing unconsciously into the shadows. She watched a highly vexed Severus Snape pace back and forth in silence. She knew she was in for it and saw no need to push her reprimanding along so soon._

 _Finally, Severus Snape ceased walking and let forth an incensed sigh. He raked a hand through his stringy, long locks, and, with that severe scowl still firmly in place, presented the children to his guests, though through gritted teeth. "Well, as I'm sure you've surmised, Miss Parkinson and Mr Malfoy, these...are my children. Children, these are our intended guests for this evening, provided you haven't just run them off with your immature display."_

 _Draco nodded and offered the youngsters a charming smile. Pansy's greeting, on the other hand, was a smudge more pained. "How do you do?" she asked respectfully, though reserved._

 _The children made a point of saying nothing in return, smartly waiting on their father's next instructions. His strict, narrow irises roved over each child individually, conveying their quiet displeasure, before he finally stated, after drying their shoes only with his wand, "Go make yourselves presentable and report back to me at once!"_

 _The children skedaddled into action, patting down the pebbled walkway and into the house as fast as their feet could fly. Hermione awkwardly started to step forward, intending to return to the house as well and hopefully slip into fresh clothes herself, when she was told to hang back. "You will stay here, Miss Granger," Severus Snape instructed her with bite, staring her squarely in the face. Hermione was grateful when the professor's female guest, whom she still hadn't been properly introduced to, suggested that she and her male companion return to the house._

 _Once they were out of earshot, Severus Snape turned on Hermione, and fast. "Miss Granger, I demand an explanation."_

 _Hermione prepared herself for the onslaught. "Certainly, Professor."_

 _"Why have my children been parading about outdoors? I thought I had informed you upon your arrival of their strict classroom regime?"_

 _"You did, sir. I thought the fresh air might do them some good, though."_

 _"Did you, now?" His tone was scorning. "And why wasn't I informed of your plans to take my children outside of the classroom setting?"_

 _"To my knowledge, you weren't here or available, so I made that decision myself."_

 _Severus Snape's eyes tapered. "So, you took it upon yourself to take them not just outdoors but away from the security of this house?"_

 _"With all due respect, sir, we merely hiked to the closest hillsides. They practiced their lessons and completed their homework for the day—"_

 _"Be that as it may, you had no right to take them off this property!"_

 _"Why? They loved it!" she tested, finding her voice and unwilling to withhold her opinions. "They need a change of scenery on occasion, Professor. You can't honestly expect to keep them cooped up in this house and think that that will somehow solve everything—"_

 _"You're out of your depths, Miss Granger!"_

"You _need to hear an outsider's opinion, I think, especially considering that you've entrusted them to me."_

 _"My first mistake!" he snarled and bore his teeth before abruptly turning his back on her._

 _"I resent that, sir," Hermione bit back, clenching her fists at her sides; they had begun to shake but she wasn't aware. Severus Snape slowly turned towards her, challenging her through an arched eyebrow. "I've told you before: I have their best interests at heart! All we did was go for a bit of a hike and enjoy a pleasant day out in the open air. Is that_ really _such a crime? They deserve to be children, Professor; to play! I know you mean well—"_

 _"Stop it, Miss Granger," he warned, waving a dismissive hand in the air._

 _"—and wish to protect them at all costs, but this was harmless fun, surely! And another thing—"_

 _"Miss Granger, will you desist?"_

 _"No, I won't!" she retorted, raising her voice another octave. "You've got to hear this from me because I suspect no one's told you before!"_

 _"Tell me_ what _, precisely?"_

 _Hermione sucked in a breath before blurting out at rapid speed, "The children. I implore you, sir, Liesl's no longer a child! In the blink of an eye she'll be a woman and you won't even know her! You ought to spend more time—"_

 _Severus Snape shot her a most affronted glare. "Miss Granger—"_

 _"—with her and the others. Friedrich is absolutely desperate for you to show him how to be a man but you haven't given him the time of day!"_

 _"I'll have you know I work for a living! I spend every moment I can with these children whilst I'm here!" Severus Snape stalked up to Hermione, invading her personal space, but she held her ground, refusing to back down. "How dare you insinuate that I spend no time with my children!" he barked, his own hands beginning to tremble at his sides._

 _"I'm afraid it's not enough. Brigitta could tell you all about herself and her siblings, as well as how little time they get to see you, because she notices everything!" Hermione carried on, not chancing a moment to draw breath. "And Kurt acts so tough to hide the pain when he's ignored!"_

 _Severus Snape threw up a hand in Hermione's face. "That's enough!"_

 _"Louisa hardly speaks a word at all because she's fearful; fearful of what she can't control and fearful of losing you in her life! If only you would take the time to listen to hers and the others' concerns!"_

 _"I said, enough!"_

 _"And the little ones, Marta and Gretl, are just pining for your attention all the time! Please, Professor, I beg you, just give them a little more of yourself! Please!"_

 _"_ I've heard enough _!"_

 _Severus Snape whirled on his heel and started to stalk away from her when Hermione's next words stopped him short. "I'm not finished yet!"_

 _He whipped his head around and met her challenge with equal fury. "Yes, you bloody well are,_ Hermione _!" Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. The professor had never addressed her so informally before—using her first name—and the sudden flush to his cheeks conveyed his realisation of that significant blunder. He uneasily cleared his throat. "Miss Granger," he addressed her coolly this time, and Hermione's heart sunk, "you will pack your belongings and leave these premises at once."_

 _Hermione started. "But, sir—"_

 _"We're done here."_

 _Before Hermione could make to defend her position, Severus Snape stormed off down the walkway, heading back to the house at all speed, with his robes and hair rippling angrily in the afternoon breeze. Hermione watched his retreating silhouette until it disappeared inside the house, and then her eyes lowered to the ground in shame._

 _'_ Leave _'?_

 _She had failed. Not only had she managed to get herself sacked from a position she had so rapidly—and remarkably—grown to love, but she had also let herself down, the children down, and even gotten Madame Maxime's hopes up, for the gentle half giant had entrusted her with an upstanding referral and her good word. The dismal thought of returning home to her parents in London or to Beauxbatons and relaying to those she cherished most of her grave shortcoming was nauseating to consider._

 _Hermione sighed lamentably as she made a slow, morose progression back to the estate, knowing it would be her last. She was hardly able to grasp everything now that she had unloaded on the professor, and the more she reflected on their heated exchange the more upset with herself she became. After all, it wasn't her place to tell Severus Snape how to be a better parent. She wasn't a parent herself, merely a 'fill in' when he was away seeing to his appropriate duties. That hardly qualified her for telling the man how he should and shouldn't interact with his children, whom he had gone through the painstaking lengths and loopholes to adopt._

You've done a real bang-up job of things this time, Hermione _, she chastised herself as she quietly stepped inside_. Once again, you let your wretched mouth run amuck. Well done!

 _Still, hadn't it amounted to any good? She had only been trying to help; to speak up on the children's behalf. She knew how fiercely they loved Severus Snape, and vice versa, so what was the harm in telling him that they simply required more?_

Just your bloody tone and tongue, really _, her conscience snorted at her._

 _Hearing the soft fluttering of the children's laughter clenched Hermione's heart in two and she raised her eyes, in search of their beloved faces. She would have to say goodbye and the thought was agonising. Only, she didn't find them but Severus Snape instead, standing not far off with his back to her. He was peering into the sitting room, apparently mesmerised by whatever he was watching unfold, and that easily enticed Hermione to obtain a closer look. She had nearly reached his side when he slipped inside the room, unaware of his now former governess strolling up from behind._

 _Hermione discreetly peeked into the room as well and realised what so deeply had the professor's attentions engrossed. The children, all of whom had changed into new clothes, were taking turns showing off their magic for their two guests; but it wasn't in any sort of chaotic fashion as one might expect from rowdy youngsters but one by one, and with a level of professionalism that seemed to both delight and stun their adult company, including their father. Hermione spotted the faint curl of a smile twisting the corners of Severus Snape's mouth as he watched each of his children entertain Mr Malfoy and Miss Parkinson, his black eyes blazing with indisputable pride._

 _As Hermione observed from the shadows, Brigitta finished bestowing Mr Malfoy with a gift, a book that had been of her choosing for the occasion, and rattled off its summary for the wizard, who listened to her energetic words with kind-hearted enthusiasm. Gretl was the last to step forward, carrying a bundle of flowers in her hands that Hermione recognised to be the lovely edelweiss from the front of the house. They had been handpicked by the tot earlier that morning and she respectfully handed the small bouquet to Miss Parkinson, who smiled generously at receiving them._

 _"Edelweiss? My, my, they're lovely!" Gretl sweetly curtsied to Miss Parkinson who, utterly smitten, patted to an empty spot on the couch next to her. Gretl nestled herself against the witch, who then turned to the professor, still all smiles. "Severus, you never told me how enchanting your children are!"_

 _Despite the unfortunate mess that had resulted in her firing, Hermione was grateful to not miss what transpired next. All of the children shuffled closer to the professor, surrounding him from all sides. His wiry arms extended to receive them openly and, in silence, they readily leaned into his embrace. Gretl, too, hopped off the couch and shimmied her way to be at the centre of the family's group hug._

 _Hermione couldn't hear what Severus Snape whispered to the children—or if he spoke at all—but his heart-wrenching gesture spoke volumes. She swallowed hard, overcome with unexpected emotion._

 _In that tender moment, she felt torn between elation that her words seemed to have, at last, gotten through to the stubborn wizard and resentful for having her position so unfairly snatched from her grasp. She settled for a mixture of both and, though deeply pained, tiptoed from the sitting room as noiselessly as possible, ducking into the nearest door she stumbled across, which happened to be the kitchen._

Hermione felt a hand compress her shoulder and blinked back tears. She was comforted by the empathetic, round face of Molly Weasley, who had been listening to her retelling of events without scruple or interruption. She waited for what the wise witch might offer in terms of advice, but Mrs Weasley ended up giving a sad shrug of her shoulders once Hermione was through.

"I'm afraid poor Severus can be quite headstrong in how he negatively views much of the world...and most people. Neither has provided him much kindness in the past, and I sense that that's why he's so terribly guarded and closed off. That unintentionally extends, in part, to the children as well, I believe. Make no mistake, Hermione, he cares for them immensely—"

"Oh, I don't doubt that at all, Molly," Hermione concurred.

"—but you may have overstepped it a bit by telling him that he doesn't spend any time with them."

"Well, I didn't mean it exactly like _that_ ," Hermione stammered to justify her remarks, flustered when Mrs Weasley merely stared at her, waiting on a more thorough explanation. "I just wanted to get through to him that the children need _more_ than what he's sparing. It's not enough to simply be present! He should open up to them; take care of their emotional needs as dedicatedly as he takes care of their provisions and financials. Do you know, today was the first day since I've been here that I've seen the professor _embrace_ them?"

To her growing dismay, Mrs Weasley didn't appear at all fazed by that. In fact, she actually seemed nearly offended. "He hugs them, dear. You may not see it—or see it often enough for your liking—but he does. You know, it took him a long time to learn how to do that with anyone."

"What, _hug_?" Hermione's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. She had never heard of such a struggle.

"Yes," Mrs Weasley chuckled. "They're not his flesh and blood, of course, and he hasn't wanted to overstep his bounds with them emotionally. He's had to approach and get every one of those children to trust him in their own time and in their own way. That doesn't mean he's uncaring, my dear; he's just... He approaches everything with painstaking caution. Believe me, I've been around Severus long enough to know: he may be cross and strict towards you but, with the children, his heart's generally in the right place."

By the end of Mrs Weasley's much gentler account of the professor, Hermione's face had sunk into her hands. "I've really botched things up, haven't I?" she groaned behind clasped fingers, to which Mrs Weasley laughed and patted her on the back.

"Not as badly as some of the others! You've got spirit, Hermione, and a set of balls on you! I'll give you that!"

Hermione's aggrieved expression came out of hiding, hardly improved by the witch's taunting bit of commentary. She was blushing madly and about to offer a reply when the kitchen door swung open. Mrs Weasley peered over Hermione's shoulder, prompting the young witch to whirl around in her chair to see what the commotion was.

"Oh! Miss Granger," came Severus Snape's terse voice. He awkwardly grunted and spoke again, this time exercising a kinder address. "I was hoping you hadn't left yet." He nodded towards the hall. "May I have a word with you, if you please?"

Although reluctant, Hermione shifted out of her chair and presented a silent, disheartened farewell to Mrs Weasley, who encouraged her onward with a heartening smile. Hermione exited the kitchen and waited, not daring to so much as meet the professor's eyes. She sensed him transferring his weight from one long leg to the other, as well as tugging aimlessly at the buttons on the front of his frock coat, both of which she thought quite odd for him. Was he...nervous?

"Miss Granger, I ask your forgiveness just now," he shocked her right off the bat by apologising. "I behaved poorly towards you, and I'm sorry for that."

Encouraged, Hermione lifted her eyes and was taken aback by the intensity of Severus Snape's gaze. It wasn't laden with irritation or ire, as had become customary to her, but was of the highest regard, a sincere expression that, until now, Hermione had only ever seen bestowed on the children. "I... I'm sorry, too," she found herself asking for forgiveness as well, proceeding to toil with her hands. Why did they suddenly feel sweaty and fidgety? "Sometimes I'm too outspoken about the things that matter to me. It's a horrible trait, I know, and even Beauxbatons couldn't knock some sense into me."

Severus Snape adamantly shook his head. "No, you were right. I..." His next words caught in his throat and came off as deeply regretful. "I don't know my children. I've wanted us to come to terms with our arrangements in our own time but... For better or worse, I _am_ their guardian now, and I should have been pushing much harder to reach them."

Hermione half extended her hand towards him before catching herself. Why had she felt compelled to console him; to touch his arm? Her hand darted into her hair, and she hoped that Severus Snape hadn't noticed her silly antic. "There's still time, Professor," she suggested, gracing him with another smile. "They want so very much to be closer to you."

"Yes..." Any additional remarks the professor might have wanted to express faded into silence. Hermione decided that that was her cue to leave and, disappointed, she shrunk around him and started for the stairs at the end of the hall. Without warning, Severus Snape reached out and caught her arm, startling Hermione. "Miss Granger," he called, and she hitched a breath as their eyes locked. His hand hurriedly withdrew, his fingers uselessly rubbing on his trousers. "I'd, erm... I'd like you to stay." He paused to survey Hermione's reaction, which brightened at once, and chanced a step closer. "If you would, that is? I'd very much _like_ you to remain here...with us."

"Well, of course I will, if... If that is your wish, Professor?"

"It is," he assured her, conveying no hesitation on the matter.

"I... I just ever want to be of help."

"You already have been, Miss Granger," he softly avowed, and something strange and unusual fluttered in Hermione's heart at hearing it, "more than you know."

* * *

"Papa! Papa! Uncle Draco says you're going to throw a party for us!"

Severus Snape turned around and scowled critically, his shrewd, suspicious eyes glancing from an excited Marta to a freshly sheepish-looking Draco. His scowl deepened once the guilty wizard was standing in front of him. "I don't know what Mr Malfoy's teasing you about, Marta," he rejected as he took a precious sip from his goblet of Ogden's Firewhisky, with Pansy hanging on his arm and Brigitta leaning into his opposite side.

Marta's spirits immediately dampened, as did the rest of the children's, who had all come galloping up to the professor following dinner on the back patio. It had been four days that Severus Snape had been entertaining his friends, Pansy and Draco, both of whom, as far as he was concerned, had overstayed their welcome; but the children had taken such a liking to them, particularly Draco, whom they were already affectionately referring to as 'uncle', that Severus Snape hadn't the heart to dismiss them. Yet.

Besides feeling a closer pull towards Pansy in these last days, there was also greedy amusement in observing Draco scampering about his house all the time, running after Marta and Gretl in one of his fine suits or struggling to hover on a broomstick on the back lawn with Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa, and Kurt during a highly physical game of Quidditch or having to tell elaborately wild stories to maintain the children's interest. Whatever it was that the boys and girls demanded of him, Draco hadn't been granted a moment's peace since being introduced, and Severus Snape was easily relishing the payback for all the long, torturous years he had spent babysitting Lucius Malfoy's spawn and his troublemaking mates at Hogwarts.

This latest conniving scheme between Draco and the children was a supposed private one Severus Snape hadn't had the luxury of overhearing until now, and he didn't approve of it at all. He waited for Draco to explain himself.

"I think it's a splendid idea, Severus!" Draco prodded, giving the children a hopeful wink. "The children say they've never had a party thrown in their honour, and with that enormous, unused ballroom you've got—"

"Oh, _please_ , Papa! _Please_?" Liesl and Louisa begged unanimously. The boys were the only ones crinkling their noses, not understanding all the fuss. The youngest ones expressed their enthusiasm by clapping and jumping up and down.

Severus Snape turned to what he hoped would be one of his few supporters, Brigitta. "What do you think, my dear?" he asked the young girl, giving her shoulder a small nudge.

"Parties are tedious and long and there are too many people—"

" _Oh, be quiet, sis_!" Louisa reprimanded furiously, but Brigitta haughtily stuck up her nose and hugged the book in her hands tighter to her chest.

"I tend to agree with Brigitta," Severus Snape all too willingly concurred. Liesl, Louisa, Marta, and Gretl bemoaned him by whining all at once.

"You're very cruel, Severus," Draco didn't help matters by instigating, forcing out his bottom lip, "to deny us proper use of that gorgeous ballroom! What fun we could have!"

"'We'?" Severus Snape's eyes narrowed. " _Who_ , exactly? Your friends?"

Draco shot the professor a long, measured look. "They're _your_ friends, too, Severus."

Severus Snape didn't bother contending that score, but he did tack on rather defensively, "My children do _not_ need to be put on display."

"I don't think that's what Draco's suggesting, Severus," Pansy interjected, offering forth some encouragement.

"That's _precisely_ what he's put into their precious little heads!"

"Oh, no, Papa!" nearly all of the children argued, each trying to speak over the others.

"You have a family now, Severus," Draco contested in all seriousness once Severus Snape had settled them down; his gentle, steel grey eyes roved over each child's innocent, open face. "Why not allow some of our closest acquaintances to meet these wonderful treasures that have become such a part of your life?"

"I quite agree, Mr Malfoy," Hermione piped in with a smile, sneaking up from behind their group. Everyone cast their attention upon the governess, who had offered forth her own opinion so freely, including the professor. He was the only party amongst them who frowned with increasing exasperation at being overruled.

"You see? Even _she_ agrees with me!" Draco proclaimed, grinning from Hermione to Severus, whose stern facial lines had deflated. "It's settled then, _yes_?"

Severus Snape rolled his eyes in response and took a much larger swig of his drink. The children reacted by bursting into spurts of shrieks and cheers, leaping and throwing their hands high in the air, and even Draco joined them. Brigitta wasn't game and, instead, sighed and said her goodnights to her father. She was the first to quietly leave the patio, but Hermione had the others soon following along. She shooed them off to bed as stringently as her voice could carry over their booming excitement. Gretl was the last to comply, however. She first bounded into the professor's arms, throwing her tiny arms around his waist, and proclaimed over her shoulder as she was rushed off by Hermione, "It will be my first party, Papa!"

Severus Snape might not have matched his youngest child's eagerness and cheer, but he could, at the very least, smile with understated warmth as her little form skipped indoors. She was followed closely by her governess and, for the briefest and most unexpected moment, his and Hermione's eyes met. Something akin to esteem—or, perhaps, arousing fondness—glimmered therein. Its discovery rocked the professor to his foundation.

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes, rolled up the parchment that had been hand delivered to her earlier that day, and ambled down the side of mountain that rested not far from her employer's estate, the high grass occasionally tickling at her bare ankles. She had resigned herself to hiking here following a late supper in order to read her parents' latest correspondence from London alone, though she wound up spending more time on the mountain than she had planned.

Once darkness finally hit, Hermione became aware that it was time to head back home. _'Home'?_ Well, it certainly wasn't her real home, per say, but it was as good as. It felt like a place she could see herself residing in for the foreseeable future anyhow, and shouldn't that count for something? _Maybe..._

Reaching the bottom of the mountain, Hermione headed north, wrapping her grey poncho tighter around herself as she carried on on foot. Her mind wandered again as she followed the uneven, winding path that twisted and bent towards the professor's obscured residence, burrowed snug amongst such magnificent surrounding woodlands.

Maybe there _was_ 'something' to these new homebound sentiments the young witch's heart was nurturing. She thought lovingly of those seven bright faces, all of whom had been put to bed hours ago, and Mrs Weasley's delicious evening meal that had left Hermione feeling comforted and contented after another eventful day on the job, and couldn't help but smile.

The children were making exceptional strides with their wizarding and muggle studies, and even Severus Snape had taken a liking to regularly expressing his gratitude to her on more than a number of occasions. His quiet generosity and casual observances over the past week since their unforgettable row that nearly sent Hermione packing didn't fly under her radar, of course. In fact, such encounters had enlivened her, as well as stirred up unresolved feelings she wasn't sure what to make of.

Hermione shivered, but not on account of the light mountain breeze, and pressed on towards the house. Perhaps she should write to her parents about it...if she could ever pin these feelings down and give them proper terminology.

It was hard to believe she had been at her post for almost three months now. It was even _more_ remarkable to her how time seemed to speed up considerably when one was _enjoying_ themselves. Oh, for sure, Hermione had found pleasure in her studies at Beauxbatons, but she couldn't deny to herself that her school days hadn't been without their share of loneliness. Oddly, she wasn't feeling much of those old, familiar pangs of alienation anymore.

Had she finally found her professional calling? _As a governess?_ She wrinkled her nose, somewhat dismayed by such a conclusion, _if_ that was truly the case, and she wasn't entirely convinced yet. _Surely not..._

Had she found a sense of belonging at last? _Amongst children? Well, perhaps..._

And the professor? _Oh..._ Hermione's lips formed one pensive line as she rounded a corner that led directly to the front iron gates of the enigmatic wizard in question. _Home... The children... Severus Snape..._ Why did they all radiate such a cohesive, warming sensation inside of her, in her mind and in her heart? _Bugger. Don't think about it._ She adored the children, that much was clear, and she had naturally gained an affinity for the stirring backdrop of the Scottish highlands that were such an avid part of the professor's residence; but Severus Snape himself? Why did _he_ feel differently to her all of a sudden?

 _You've thought enough for one day, Hermione_. She shook her head, as if to rid her mind of matters that were too discomforting to analysis further, and extracted her wand so as to let herself through Severus Snape's night-time security wards at the front of the house. She passed over them without complication and headed for the front doors when the soothing scent of edelweiss halted her in her tracks.

She smiled, entranced, as her vision fell upon the vast array of white blooms. She stepped onto the grass so as to inspect them up close and knelt down in front of a batch. She inhaled a short whiff of their fragrance, her curious fingers lightly grazing their dainty petals. Ever since her arrival, she had wondered why they had been planted. Why edelweiss? _Why not...lilies?_

That puzzlement had expanded in Hermione's mind since that day, but it hardly seemed appropriate to ask. It was an intriguing choice of flower, however, and a mystery about Severus Snape that kept tugging at Hermione's overactive brain.

She found herself crouching down and scrutinising the flowers for some time, rethinking the ex-Death Eater she had sworn she would quit pondering on, and didn't even hear the man's footsteps as they strolled up behind her. "Are you all right, Miss Granger?"

Hermione jolted to her feet with a yelp, and her cheeks blushed beet red as she glanced up into Severus Snape's inquisitive, nonplussed irises. "Oh! Yes," she breathed and made to laugh off her embarrassment. "I was just, erm, admiring your flowers, sir. They're very beautiful."

"Edelweiss," he humoured her, thoughtfully regarding them with understated care; Hermione didn't overlook any of it. "Yes... They _are_ beautiful."

"May I ask why you chose them?" Hermione pressed ever so quietly, fascinated about the potential to receiving an answer to the delicate question that had been nagging her. "Do they hold special meaning for you, Professor?"

Severus Snape didn't acquiesce her with a reply straightaway. Instead, he silently bent down to retrieve a couple of edelweiss from their stems. He then rose to his full height and turned them over in his hand, long, bony fingers twirling the thin stalks back and forth in contemplative quietude. The breeze rustled a few of his stark hairs, sweeping them appealingly into his eyes. Hermione found herself staring without awareness, utterly transfixed by both the inherent gentleness and the unexpected allure to his expression, and awaited his response. His gaze was markedly soft once those dark eyes met hers.

"These were handpicked by my mother's side of the family, the Princes," he candidly explained. "They've been charmed to survive in these harsher conditions and have been in my family's possession for decades. My grandmother, I remember, had a particular fondness for edelweiss. She had spent a great deal of her youth in the Alps, in fact, which is where she first met my grandfather while he was attending Beauxbatons."

"Oh!" Hermione replied, elated. "I had no idea you had relatives who attended my alma mater."

"Yes, indeed." Severus Snape gave a minuet nod. "I enjoy them. They remind me of my grandmother...where I came from... It's important to remember and honour stories of our past, wouldn't you say?" Hermione bowed in agreement, weaving her fingers through her unkempt, windswept curls. "Some of them are unpleasant," Severus Snape added with a sudden air of repentance that took her aback, "but they're a part of who we are—and what we've become—and hopefully the latter is better than the start."

He brought the bundle of flowers to the tip of his hooked nose and lightly sniffed their scent as Hermione observed, her interest piquing as the short period of silence passed. Then Severus Snape suddenly turned the conversation on her, forcing Hermione out of her musings. "How are your parents?"

Hermione removed their folded letter from inside one of her pockets. "They're well, thank you. I've been telling them all about the children and how much I'm enjoying their daily instructions. They love hearing what they're learning about, I suppose because it reminds them of when I was in wizarding school."

"Is it still your objective to become a professor?" he pleasantly surprised Hermione by inquiring. "Madame Maxime informed me that that was a pursuit you were considering."

"I am. That is, I _think_ it's something I still want...at some point..."

Severus Snape blinked, a series of hard lines strewing his forehead. "You're no longer certain?"

A weighty, troublesome sigh escaped Hermione's lips. "I was _never_ certain of what I wanted to do with my life."

"You're young, Miss Granger," Severus Snape assured her, offering Hermione a generous, handsome sliver of a smile that left her bereft. "You still have plenty of time to figure it out."

"Thank you, sir..." She wanted to tell him that she had become so deeply immersed in teaching _his_ children—so captivated and invested in their futures—that she could no longer fathom doing anything else, but she stopped herself short of uttering the words that touched her tongue. "I'm sure you're right," came forth alternatively, and Hermione slumped her shoulders, casting her eyes to the stunning bed of flowers in front of them instead. Their petals fluttered with the wind but didn't wilt or flounder.

Severus Snape extended a hand to Hermione, who turned back to him, amazed that he was presenting her with the bouquet of edelweiss he had just picked himself. She tried to graciously accept them without blushing like mad, but it was an impossible feat and Hermione had never been any good at disguising her most treasured sentiments, so she hardly bothered.

In turn, Severus Snape didn't grin as Hermione's unpracticed, unsteady hands staggered to accept the flowers, but there was a breath-taking, genteel consideration in his regard in that moment that made Hermione terribly self-conscious, and yet, enthralled. She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say, and was grateful when Severus Snape, after the pregnant pause that followed, spoke first, "You should go inside, Miss Granger. It's getting late...and cold."

"Yes..." she concurred quietly, holding her breath.

Severus Snape gracefully bowed his head, those same sweeping, black hairs still streaking across his eyelids. "Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night...Professor."

Hermione watched as Severus Snape twirled around and sauntered off with his hands loosely behind his back, his trademark robes billowing at his heels. She waited until he had completely disappeared inside the house before releasing the breath she had been sucking in. It came out more like an intense shudder, shaken and aroused by something not yet acknowledged.

From the far left corner of the second story, and peering down from her guest bedroom window that overlooked the private exchange between the governess and the professor, Pansy Parkinson frowned into the darkness. Her beady eyes trailed after the unobservant Hermione as the enamoured witch floated indoors, looking awfully smitten by Severus Snape's gesture, and flared her nostrils in discouragement.

After a moment, she shut the bedroom window. She would shun the outdoor breeze that hailed from the nearby mountaintops for the rest of her stay.

* * *

 **A/N #2 : Thank you to those who review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N : Thank you so much for your engaging feedback on the last chapter! Also, I need to give a special shout out to kind reader and super talented artist, Jamie, who created an absolutely gorgeous manip for this story that I've posted as its official image/header, with her permission. I'm totally giddy over it, as well as over all of YOU for your positivity and encouragement with this cherished little story of mine. It continues to astound me, so thank you again!  
**

 **And now, onto _that_ infamous scene... *gulp*  
**

 **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. _The Sound of Music_ is copyrighted to and belongs to Rodgers  & Hammerstein. I'm just playing in their sandboxes. No money, just fun.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 _"What will my future be? I wonder..."_

* * *

"The women look splendid, don't they?" Louisa admired from behind one of three open doors that led out onto the family's empty patio. She, along with her younger siblings, had been studying their father's curious guests from afar for much of the evening, having offered their hellos at the start of the party before retreating to the safety of the shadows.

"I think most of 'em are ugly, to be honest," confessed Kurt, scrunching up his nose in disagreement at all the froufrou and ridiculous robe twirling. Friedrich stepped forward from inside the ballroom, snickering and shaking his head at overhearing his brother's colourful commentary.

"Oh, bollocks!" Louisa teased. "You're just scared of them!" She and her younger sisters laughed.

Kurt puffed up his handsomely-attired chest in challenge. "Says who? Only grown-up men are afraid of women!"

" _I_ think the men look splendid!" Brigitta chimed in, her cheeks reddening as she suddenly made to hide her blush behind Louisa.

"How would _you_ know?"

Brigitta, in turn, kept her mouth shut and her eyes fixed upon the vivid ballroom scenery instead of providing Kurt with a snarky reply. It was easy to spot their sister, Liesl, and their father amongst so many strangers, and it had been fun for the children trying to guess who was who amongst the lively crowd. Liesl had been the only child, apart from Friedrich, to take several turns about the dance floor alongside a number of their fascinating guests this evening, including Charlie Weasley, Blaise Zabini, and Uncle Draco. Presently, she was dancing with famous Quidditch Keeper and Puddlemere United Reserve player, Oliver Wood, who had captured more than just the infatuated Liesl's attention but Louisa's and Quidditch fanatic Kurt's as well.

Severus Snape, meanwhile, hardly danced at all; except for one slow number he had provided to Pansy earlier in the evening (at her behest) and another with his eldest daughter. He circled around the cramped but enchanted ballroom, providing (forced) polite conversation to those he encountered.

The room was filled to capacity—a stifling feat the professor had been dead-set against from the off—but, as it turned out, Draco had grander plans in mind for his godfather's 'little party'. Not only had the sneaky wizard taken it upon himself to invite the entire Hogwarts staff, he had also extended that invitation to his old schoolmates and a few additional surprises, such as former school nemeses, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, to name a mere few.

By the time preparations were well underway, the entire class of four houses whom Draco had departed Hogwarts with—or, rather, those who were left standing following the war's end—had turned up to catch a peek at their standoffish former Potions professor's stylish new living quarters, as well as his enchanting new family life. Severus Snape was forced to cast aside his disgruntlement at the number of guests invading his household. As long as the notorious Rita Skeeter and any of her lechers from the press stayed away, as well Ministry officials, most of whom he didn't consider his pals, he would accept Draco overstepping his bounds in this manner. " _But only this once_ ," he reminded the devious lad, projecting a threatening sneer at him virtually every time their paths crossed during the party.

"Who's that Papa's talking to now?" Marta interrupted her siblings' quiet observances from the doorways, posing another one of her innocent questions.

The professor, standing in a far off corner of the ballroom with his back pressed rigidly to the wall, had turned to two blond-haired, well-dressed individuals who had kept mostly to themselves all night. "Would you care for some more champagne, Narcissa?" he suggested as a waiter, one of many whom he and Molly Weasley had hired for this evening's festivities, came round carrying a platter of automatically refilling champagne glasses.

"No, but thank you, Severus, I'm fine," she replied courteously. The witch's smile was attractive but understatedly strained. "Thank you, again, for being so kind as to invite Lucius and I this evening."

Her gratitude was both soft-spoken and self-critical and, whilst Severus Snape understood why, he readily ignored its gravity, standing by the Malfoys and ensuring that the rest of his guests, including Draco, saw where their host's attentions had drifted. Lucius didn't even attempt a smile. His expression had been grim and distant ever since the start of the party, his aloof, steel grey eyes watching the many guests spin about the room, laughing gaily and taking obvious enjoyment in the live band. Mostly, he and his wife kept a close eye on their son, hoping Draco would, at some point, approach them and offer a 'hello'. So far, he had avoided any eye contact, but then their relationship had been strained for nearly a year.

The Malfoys were only a handful of pureblood wizarding families left who had been cast out following the war, never rediscovering their footing in society. Whilst Severus Snape understood that it would take a great deal more time for his old friends to re-establish themselves as trustworthy amongst their kind, he severely disliked seeing them reduced to hiding in a corner so as not to put any kind of taint on his party. They had yet to partake in so much as one dance number and, for Severus Snape, that wouldn't do. The Malfoys had always been the lavish partying sorts, drinking merrily until the alcohol had run dry and waltzing around a room until the last musical number was played.

As the latest dance drew to a close, Severus Snape grabbed Liesl's arm when the girl conveniently came fluttering in his direction. "Liesl," he stated, pulling her effortlessly to his side, "may I introduce Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."

"Oh! You must be related to Uncle Draco?" she greeted them graciously, grinning with warmth and extending her hand for them to shake. "How do you do?"

"They're Draco's parents, actually," Severus Snape pointed out as Lucius and Narcissa each accepted the young witch's hand. "Would you show my old friend here a good time on the dance floor? He hasn't partaken in anything fun in a long while."

Liesl, easily reading her father's good intentions, extended her smile and coaxed Lucius towards the centre of the dance floor. The emotionally crippled wizard stepped forward with grave reluctance, making sure to shoot his host a dark look as he passed him by, but Liesl was able to successfully drag him forward despite his misgivings.

Severus Snape snatched up Narcissa's hand next and led her onto the dance floor as well, though the witch's eyes darted nervously around the now quieted ballroom. She discreetly squeezed his arm. "You don't have to do this, Sev—"

"Nonsense," he insisted gently, pressing her hand in return. "You're my guests, Narcissa. You're as welcome here as any of these less acquainted dunderheads."

"Thank you," she offered all too softly, her eyes flickering towards her son, who was apparently about to take Pansy for a spin. Their eyes briefly met, but then he glanced elsewhere just as fast.

"I'll insist that he offer you the next dance," Severus Snape assured a freshly forlorn Narcissa as the band began to play and the woman was compelled to cast her hurt aside.

From outside the ballroom, Friedrich let forth a sigh of relief. "Well, at least people aren't staring anymore."

"What's the big deal?" Marta inquired, puzzled by how still and silent the room had turned before roaring to life once more with the helpful aid of the music.

Friedrich gave his little sister a reassuring smile. "Nothing, Marta. Some people just... Well, some of these people took part in the war, and on opposite sides. It's a sore subject for all. It's fine now. Everyone's dancing again, see?"

"Even Mrs Weasley! Look!" Gretl giggled, spotting the buzzed redhead pivoting oddly about near the centre of the room. She swayed her curvy hips back and forth and slunk towards her husband, Arthur, whose ginger eyebrows were raised high atop his forehead. He was evidently enticed by his wife's quirky moves.

"What are you all laughing at?" Hermione suddenly stepped forward from the darkness beyond the house, interrupting the children's musings. They whipped their heads around to face her, puzzled and surprised to find their governess not partaking in all the fun activities.

"Miss Hermione, why aren't you dancing?"

Hermione hadn't the heart to inform Marta, who had innocently asked, as well as her curious siblings, of the detrimental social anxiety that was responsible for preventing her from moseying about the professor's party, making small talk with strangers and, perhaps, being asked to join in on the dances. It was a shame, really, and Hermione knew it, for she had a specific dress for such a splendid occasion. It was unsophisticated and simple by wizarding standards—Brigitta and Kurt hadn't hesitated to provide their less than enthusiastic opinions earlier whilst Hermione was getting ready—but it worked well enough for _her_ , and Hermione tried to remind herself that that was all that mattered.

Her dress was a light lavender blue, with a round neckline and sleeveless arms, and stopped just above the knee. It gave her somewhat of a waistline, too, something the unfashionable witch rarely showed off. In addition, she had decided to place a few of the edelweiss Severus Snape had presented to her on her chest, using a simple embroidered pin that Liesel had loaned to her for the evening. She thought it added a fetching touch to her outfit, though the children had stayed peculiarly mute about the flowers. Liesl and Brigitta commented that their father "would love them," however, which pleased her to hear at the time.

Despite feeling appropriately dressed, Hermione's nerves had gotten the better of her, and she had resorted to checking on the children on occasion and then taking lengthy strolls around the grounds of the house to preoccupy her mind. She shrugged to the children and stretched the truth by claiming, "Oh, I haven't danced in years! I'm afraid I wouldn't remember how to."

"Rubbish! You went to Beauxbatons," Kurt contested, looking smug at how Hermione's face fell. "Isn't dancing a specialty there? Surely, you _must_ know how to dance!"

"That old governess of yours was right. You _are_ terrible, Kurt," Hermione jabbed lightly, sighing as the clever boy marched up to her. He seemed to be on the verge of tormenting his shy governess further when the musical number inside the ballroom suddenly ended and something else—a beautiful and unfamiliar tune to the children—began to play, drawing their intrigued ears to its most whimsical sounds.

"What's that playing now?" Brigitta inquired, breathless. "It's lovely."

Hermione recognised the tune at once and her features softened. She remembered having to learn it for the Yule Ball, though, in the end, she hadn't found a partner to dance to it with. That had been a relief but also a deeply wounding disappointment. "It's the Laendler, an old Austrian muggle folk dance."

Kurt eagerly stepped forward. "Can you teach me?" he begged.

Hermione's pupils expanded. "Oh, Kurt, I don't know the steps!"

" _Please_ , Miss Hermione?"

"I'm telling you, I don't know how—"

" _Yes, you do_!" Friedrich, Louisa, and Gretl snickered all at the same time, prompting Hermione's complexion to flush with guilt.

"Oh, very well!" she agreed, though reluctantly, and snatched up Kurt's hand. She guided them towards the centre of the patio and spun on her heel. "First, you bow and I curtsy." She then showed the completely untrained boy where to place his hands and began counting steps, encouraging him to follow her lead. Kurt struggled with the beat, however, unintentionally stepping on Hermione's toes more than once and barely able to twirl alongside her much longer arms. "Turn under. Oh! Not quite," she chuckled as Kurt uttered a curse word under his breath.

An unexpected voice filtered in from behind them, deep, yet self-assured, and his fingers tapped Kurt on the shoulder to halt their ghastly attempts. "Allow me?" the voice suggested and Kurt immediately stepped aside, grinning from ear to ear as he tiptoed out of view.

Hermione twirled around and found herself face to face with none other than Severus Snape, dressed in a refined black and white waistcoat that showed off his rather towering, trim frame. He had removed the sweeping, long robes he normally donned in place of a small handful of edelweiss against his breast that, too, were pinned proudly in place. His dark hair, usually hanging like a protective curtain around his eyes, had been pulled off of his face, exposing his sharp but elegantly carved countenance to all who may wish to scrutinise him, such as the classically high cheekbones and that unmistakable hooked nose.

He looked exceptionally eye-catching, as if Hermione were gazing upon him anew, and her breath caught in her throat like ice as their eyes met. Before she could protest—or so much as catch her breath at the arresting visual standing before her—the professor had effortlessly taken her hand in his and began leading her across the empty patio, his gaze steadily locked on hers. She followed him about, unable to tear her eyes from his, paralysed by their intense regard of her person, and yet, her body moved freely alongside his own.

For a short time, nothing else—and no one else—mattered. Hermione forgot that she was dancing a muggle folk number with her employer beneath the stars or that she was socially awkward when it came to these types of affairs or that she had a number of onlookers watching hers and the professor's every move, including a guarded, sore-looking Pansy, who had noiselessly stepped onto the patio as well to catch the artless governess and Severus Snape dancing in an intimate, private setting not meant for her prying eyes, seemingly without a care in the world.

The dance was short and precise but, were anyone judging the pair's steps, they wouldn't have found the couple wanting. Severus Snape pulled Hermione against him, ushering her into a tight spin in which one of her hands was placed behind her back and covered by his, whilst the other was guided above her head and also held within his grasp. He wielded them around and around, then in the opposite direction, all the while keeping their intertwined limbs—and faces—quite close together.

Shortly thereafter, the Laendler reached its final notes, though not before both Hermione and Severus Snape had unconsciously ceased moving. Their eyes continued boring deeply into one another's, until Hermione came to the sudden realisation that her lungs needed to draw air. She shuddered as she stepped back from him, slowly inching her way out of the professor's warm clutches. His fingers unlinked from hers and fell to his sides, as did hers, but their sights remained firmly glued to each other and nothing else.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione's mouth formed a few words, though barely with any coherence. "I... I don't remember any more," she whispered, swallowing hard as Severus Snape's stark irises flickered over her but, otherwise, maintained their steadfast alignment.

"Your face is all flushed, Miss Hermione," Brigitta pointed out. The rest of the children, including Liesl, who had materialised onto the patio as well to watch her father and governess dance, looked on at the pair of them. Each of their naïve expressions seemed forcefully free of discretion, particularly in light of Pansy standing amongst them.

"Oh!" Hermione instantly brought her hands to her cheeks, hoping to conceal her flustered blush; her eyes hadn't darted from Severus Snape's for so much as a second. "I - I suppose it was all that dancing. I'm not used to it."

Clapping from the ballroom sifted to the outdoors, signalling that the Laendler dance was over. Severus Snape blinked hard, as if drifting out of a daze. He quickly lowered his gaze to the floor and seemed to recoil into himself. Hermione thought she detected a blush forming on his cheeks as well as he tried to conceal it from her and the children by twisting away from them.

The children skipped over to them, though, surrounding Severus Snape and Hermione from all sides. They descended on them with all sorts of elated remarks regarding the dance, but it was Pansy's cut-throat words that shut everyone up.

Speaking from the doorway, her words carrying an underlying bitterness that put Hermione on the offence, Pansy remarked coolly, "Yes, that was beautifully done." Something in her tone stung the young witch in particular, though, for the professor, it didn't seem to carry the same affect. "What a splendid couple you make."

If Hermione could have extracted her wand and inconspicuously seeped into the bricks beneath her feet, she gladly would have. She suspected that Severus Snape would have preferred to do likewise, for he grunted and hastened over to Pansy at once, allowing the handsome witch to take his arm. "Perhaps it's time that the children said their goodnights," he suggested awkwardly.

Unsurprisingly, the children broke out in whiny protests, each imploring their father to allow them to stay put a little while longer. He repeatedly shook his head, guiding them all back towards the ballroom as the little ones clung to his legs and the elder ones kept pleading their cases. Pansy shot Hermione an accusatory glare over her shoulder before they had reached the ballroom, however, latching onto Severus Snape's arm as the children trailed in after them.

Hermione held back a moment, rattled by Pansy's unanticipated stare down. _What have I done?_ she questioned in a panic. Even the children's mad chatter and all the lovely outfits and unfamiliar faces flashing before her eyes couldn't stop the wheels from turning inside Hermione's worried head.

Agitated, she pushed her way through the crowd, smiling politely to those she passed but not engaging with anyone otherwise. From Pansy's seemingly abrupt aversion to what had occurred on the patio—and what _was_ that extraordinary but confounding exchange she and the professor had just shared?—Hermione was feeling the demanding urge for sudden solitude. Her first thought was to retreat to the nearest mountainside, but, of course, there could be no running away from her problems just yet.

"I'd like to stay and taste my first champagne, Papa. _Please_?" she heard Liesl begging her father at the front of the children. She batted her pretty eyelashes at him, hoping to win the stern wizard over.

A hard-hitting, "No," met her attempt as he pushed her and her pouting siblings onward.

In the end, Severus Snape was able to hold his ground, though his face was playful and game. With Hermione's assistance, they coerced the children into providing courteous goodnights to all whom they brushed shoulders with on their way out of the ballroom. From what Hermione had overheard, the party was not only a smashing success but the professor's children had charmed the pants off of everyone. That gave her prideful pause, and she made a mental note to share the positivity with her employer another time. _Yes... Perhaps tomorrow._

Hermione ensured that the children actually made their way to their bedrooms on the second level, watching them closely from the bottom of the stairs. They each disappeared into their respected bedrooms, waving goodnight to her as they went. Hermione started onto the first step herself, intending to tuck the littler ones in for the night, when a friendly voice issued her back.

"Miss Granger!" Draco had strolled into the main hall with his mother on his arm, as well as his father trailing closely behind, but they all paused for a brief moment. He approached Hermione, flashing his most affable grin at her. "Where do you think you're off to?"

"Well, the children need—"

"You _must_ stay and join the party!"

Severus Snape, along with Pansy, also came wandering into the main hall and headed towards them, though Pansy didn't look at all thrilled to be anywhere near Hermione. Hermione felt an uncomfortable heat trickle up her neck and onto her face in response. "I really think I ought to retire for the evening—" she tried to insist, but Draco wasn't hearing any of her excuses.

"Oh, come now!" He took her by the hand and heralded her away from the stairs. "You've been with the children all evening. It's time that you were afforded some fun, Miss Granger!"

"Oh, no, really, it's fine—"

"Severus, you mustn't let Miss Granger get away. The party's just getting started."

"You're welcome to stay," Severus Snape conveyed, eying her over considerately. She knew the professor's invitation was sincere, and she wasn't sure why his exceedingly gentle regard made her blush so, but spotting Pansy's subtlety ill reaction made the burning sensation on her cheeks all the worse.

"Thank you, Professor," she stammered as cordially as possible, keeping her eyes lowered to the floor, "but I - I'm a bit tired so I think I'll just—"

"You must be very proud of your children, Severus Snape," someone else interrupted Hermione this time, a different male voice she didn't recognise speaking above the steady commotion.

Everyone turned their heads in the direction of the ballroom doors, where a wizard roughly of Severus Snape's age or a bit older was strutting towards their small group. Hermione's first impression was that of a very strange, seedy sort of fellow, with shaggy, long dark locks, a scruffy beard, and unsettling, beady eyes that made her want to shy away from his presence. He clearly unnerved some of the other guests as well, such as the Malfoys, who shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

Severus Snape, on the other hand, provided this individual no reaction whatsoever. He stared down his nose at the man who had invaded their private conversation, waiting for him to say more. "Oh, wait," the wizard brashly continued, turning his head accusingly towards the professor, "they're not _really_ your children after all, are they?"

His words were loud and obnoxious enough that others meandering into the main hall overheard them, including a few of the Weasleys, who halted in their tracks at what they had picked up on; but, to Hermione's astonishment, Severus Snape kept remarkably cool. "They're as good as," he curtly answered his rude guest, who bestowed him with a sickening grin that made Hermione's insides churn. "I don't recall having invited the new Minister for Magic to my meagre family party."

"I'm afraid that's because I'm playing the part of the other half to one of your _invited_ guests this evening," the minister known as Reginald Nottingham casually returned, displaying unsuppressed glee at his host's uneasiness.

"I see," hissed Severus Snape, thoroughly unimpressed.

"I wonder," Nottingham carried on, stalking closer to the professor, "what a supposed reformed Death Eater could possibly want with a handful of Death Eater children?"

"I beg your pardon, _sir_ ," Hermione found herself boldly interjecting, with a surprisingly blazing fury she knew not of; she squared her shoulders and stalked straight over to Severus Snape's side, missing the reaction of his raised eyebrows, "but they are _not_ 'Death Eater' children. They're innocent bystanders who don't at all deserve to be referred to a certain hateful group. That, for them, is entirely cruel and unfounded. Do give them and the professor your respect. You're a guest in their house."

Nottingham's wicked eyes flashed, affronted, but his deplorable grin remained smugly intact as he bore down his fat nose at her. "My apologies, Miss...?"

"Granger." Hermione raised her chin.

The minister's eyes mildly roamed the high ceilings above their heads, as well as the series of moving portraits along the walls, all of whom were displaying their own bouts of anger and resentment towards Nottingham and his crude commentary. "Such an expansive, lovely estate," he remarked, his judgmental gaze falling lastly on Severus Snape again. "One can't help but wonder how you acquired your sudden wealth."

A snippet of a sneer crossed the professor's lips, and it didn't extend to his eyes. "My hard-earned financials are my own affairs, Minister. This is still a free, capitalist-working country, is it not?"

"Oh, yes, of course it is...provided one's earnings are _honourable_."

"Are you insinuating something, Minister?" Lucius spat, stepping forward to defend his friend's honour, but Severus Snape brushed his arm across the enraged wizard's chest to stop him from sputtering another ill word.

Nottingham merely chuckled, and it was a false, provocative sort of laugh that set Hermione's teeth on edge. "Not at all, Mr Malfoy. How goes _your_ financial troubles these days? I do hope they've improved," he paused so as to allow his subjective gaze to rest on Narcissa and her less-than-exceptional ensemble, "for your wife's sake. I heard keeping yourself out of Azkaban cost you nearly every galleon you have. I'm shocked you and your wife could find affordable robes suitable for such a swanky affair as this."

" _Why, you manky, no good, arse-licking—_ " Lucius flared, raising his serpent cane high in the air. Narcissa and Severus Snape dashed forward to stop him from shoving the instrument straight into Nottingham's skull. Draco, too, sprinted to be by his father's side, glaring and bearing his teeth at the crass Minister who had insulted his family.

Severus Snape descended on Nottingham first before anyone else could. "I request that you leave my house this instant, Minister," he commanded, clenching his teeth to keep his temper levelled. "If your only aim is to insult me, my family, and my guests then you're no longer welcome here."

"Certainly," Nottingham countered, entirely unfazed at being dismissed. "It was only a bit of truth serum. I must find my date first. I shan't leave without her."

"Then I suggest you make it quick. My butler will see you out. Alfred," he called to his butler, who emerged as if out of thin air. He trailed after Nottingham, who sauntered away in search of his accompanying other half with a pleased expression, Severus Snape's threat lingering in the air between them.

Hermione wished she could have reached out and slapped the hideous, self-satisfied grin Nottingham wore from his wretched, ugly snout. She wasn't aware that the nasty insults the wizard had thrown at the professor and the children just now had left her hands shaking with suppressed rage. She turned to her employer but his attention was directed elsewhere. Pansy had taken him by the arm and was whispering something in his ear, thereby holding his gaze. Her eyes then darted to Hermione, who hurriedly looked away.

That was, until Pansy uttered her next words. "Could you give us a moment, Severus? I think Miss Granger's terribly upset."

"I - I'm fine," she stammered, though Severus Snape eyes had snapped to her, showcasing their concern.

"I insist," Pansy pushed, projecting a small smile. Hermione didn't understand the witch's reasoning for wanting to talk to her, but Severus Snape allowed it, regardless, silently stalking back to the ballroom alongside the Malfoys without issuing another word.

Pansy startled Hermione by weaving an arm through hers and grabbing her hand. "You sure you're all right, dear? It was horrid what that dreadful man said of the children just now."

"I... Yes, it was. It was _very_ uncalled for. They've been through enough, and what the professor has done for them is a godsend."

"I agree. I don't blame you whatsoever for so adamantly defending him as you did."

Hermione's face flushed scarlet. "I hardly meant to interfere but—"

"Of course you didn't, but it _was_ admirable just the same. I say, he couldn't take his eyes off of you!"

Hermione reared back, feeling her skin break out in an unwanted sweat underneath her dress. "'Couldn't take his eyes off of me'?" she slowly repeated; her lips were parched.

"Oh, c'mon, Miss Granger," Pansy chortled, and there was something about her smile that gave Hermione caution, "surely you _do_ recognise when a man's interested in you?"

"But I... I don't think I've done anything to warrant his interest—"

"Oh, of course you haven't, but you don't _need_ to do anything, love! Men find it impossible to resist women who are so irrevocably in love with them."

Hermione jolted out of Pansy's embrace so rapidly that the room spun. She honed in on the witch beside her, wide-eyed and upset. " _'In love'_?" she gasped, her heart pounding like a sudden tidal wave.

"But of course," Pansy replied easily, sounding nonchalant about it all. "You _are_ in love with him, aren't you? I saw it when you two were dancing this evening. Your eyes were completely besotted, and you were blushing in his arms."

"But I..." Hermione was utterly lost for words. "I didn't..."

"It's so nice that he thinks he's in love with you, too."

Hermione started another step backward, suddenly on the verge of tears, though she didn't know why. "That can't be true!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to upset you!" Pansy extended her hand to squeeze Hermione's shoulder. "It's just an infatuation. He'll be over it soon enough, I'm sure. They always are, men. Their misguided sentiments never last for long."

Hermione wasn't convinced. In fact, she wasn't dubious but, rather, petrified out of her wits. Her heart was racing uncontrollably, and her legs reacted by springing into action. Flight was her only option. "I can't stay!" she exclaimed and bolted for the closest staircase. "I must go!"

"Go?" Pansy called after her, seemingly perplexed. "Go where?"

"Don't tell the professor! Oh, please, don't tell him I've gone!" she beseeched over her shoulder, hiking up the stairs two at a time. "I'll - I'll be out of his hair in no time!"

"Miss Granger," Pansy called again, to which Hermione forced herself to stop mid-run and peer over the second level bannister, "good luck to you."

Hermione thanked Pansy with a terse nod and tore out of sight, her messy array of curls flopping in the air behind her. Pansy pointedly eyed her competition as she vanished behind closed doors, making sure for the next few moments that the innocent governess wasn't about to abruptly change her mind.

Then, with a satisfied smirk, Pansy strolled back into the ballroom, where she spotted Draco laughing merrily alongside his parents, their relationship seemingly patched up. Severus Snape was standing amongst them, too, though his crafty eyes didn't meet Pansy's when she approached their small party. However, to her, it mattered not for the moment, for she seized a champagne glass as a waiter circled by and artfully toasted Draco's glass, who turned to her, intrigued by the witch's triumphant grin. "Cheers, love! I feel like celebrating!"

* * *

Severus Snape crumpled the letter together in his hands, crushing its contents between his slender digits, though he couldn't bring himself to tear it up completely yet. He scowled long and hard from his comfortable, seated perch on the patio, where he had been observing the children as they played for most of the morning. It was hardly their usual 'play,' however, which he had come to relish and even partake in more often than not. Instead, their moods were considerably glum on this day, their expressions sour and downtrodden following last night's lively party that been hosted in their honours. The warm English sun couldn't even improve their attitudes; or the professor's.

Friedrich, Kurt, and Louisa were flying about on their broomsticks and practicing Quidditch, but their hearts weren't at all in it and they fumbled or dropped the Quaffle on several occasions. Brigitta was off by herself, curled up under a tree and reading a book, though she wasn't as engrossed as usual and spent more time wiping at her watery eyes instead of partaking in the characters' adventures. Liesl and Draco, like the professor, had expended most of their efforts this morning comforting Marta and Gretl, who wept over their governess's brusque, unfounded departure over and over, not understanding any of it.

"She didn't even say goodbye!" Gretl cried hopelessly into her father's chest.

Severus Snape hardly knew how to comfort them, for he was busily reeling from the total shock of Hermione Granger's sudden absence himself. She had left a short note by the front door, which he only discovered the following day, explaining that she was 'homesick' for France and would be returning to Beauxbatons to secure an academic post. The news had been most sore to digest, leaving him stumped as to why the young witch would leave without so much as a friendly farewell, especially to the children whom she claimed to adore.

Not only was Severus Snape nettled by Hermione Granger taking off without notice, as it felt entirely out of character of her to do so, but he was also infuriated; incensed that yet another adult he had entrusted to care for his children had ultimately let them down. How could that be? Hermione Granger had seemed so different from the others he had hired. Better, in fact.

 _Much better..._ Severus Snape twisted his lips, displeased. _How grossly mistaken I've been._

Hadn't they been getting along splendidly? Their dance outside of the ballroom the previous night had certainly left Severus Snape with the impression that things were quite amicable between them—perhaps even _more_ than amicable. The heavy lines marking his ashen face deepened as he thought on her. _My mistake indeed_ , he concluded with a discouraging sigh.

Somehow, he and the children would have to carry on without Hermione Granger in their lives now and, again, somehow, Severus Snape thought such a dismal notion to be nearly impossible. The only person today distracting him from such morose reality was Pansy, though even she couldn't vanquish his contemplations entirely.

As if on cue, Pansy suddenly materialised, her greedy hands slinking across Severus Snape's tense shoulders to sooth and relax them. He wasn't used to her touch—yet—and started. Draco also came into view and dropped into a chair beside him, watching the children out on the lawn for a time before either he or Pansy chanced speaking up.

"Still sulking?" Pansy determined, sounding terribly put out as she peered down at the professor with a frown.

"No," Severus Snape tried to assure by squeezing one of her hands.

"Good, because you shouldn't! It's a waste of time."

"Yes, well," Draco interrupted, clearing his throat, "you have to admit, it _is_ all rather unexpected."

"Why?" Pansy argued and shrugged her shoulders. "Miss Granger explained herself in her note."

"That's hardly proper or even _like_ her, Pansy, and you know it." Draco eyed his godfather solemnly. "I know she meant a lot to the children."

"I, rather, thought _they_ meant a lot to _her_ ," Severus Snape growled in turn. "Evidently, I misjudged Miss Granger's character, as I seem to misjudge _all_ of the ruddy, no good governesses I've allowed into my home."

Pansy leaned forward and whispered into the sour man's ear, "Don't be so hard on yourself, Severus," but he withdrew his hand from hers and swiftly turned away.

"Papa?" Brigitta spoke up, having appeared in front of him as if from nowhere. Her siblings, too, were making their way over.

"Yes, Brigitta?"

"Do you suppose she'll come back?"

Severus Snape's chest constricted at the touch of hope he detected in his daughter's forlorn, pretty eyes, clinging to the possibility that her father would say yes. He saw that twinge of belief in the other children's faces as well, all of whom had overheard Brigitta's question. He unravelled the crinkled parchment in his hand and tossed it onto the table with a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid not."

Liesl glanced to her brothers and sisters apprehensively before she piped up for all of them, "Then who's our new governess going to be, Papa?"

"I don't know, Liesl."

"Perhaps you won't have need of a governess much longer?" came Pansy's casual suggestion. A couple of the older children immediately caught wind of the witch's underlining meaning and shot each other concerned, befuddled looks, but her words had evidently slipped the younger ones' and the professor's normally sharp attentions.

Severus Snape linked his hands together in his lap and cast his eyes seriously upon each young face before him. "I promise that, whomever I chose next time, they'll be the right fit for everyone."

"But Miss Granger _was_ the right fit, Papa," said Louisa, her sorry eyes falling to the ground.

A trickle of agreement echoed from the rest of the children, forcing Severus Snape to heave his shoulders in defeat. "I thought so, too, Louisa." His deep register trailed off into silence.

A moment later, he rose to his full height, brushed his hand gently over Brigitta's and Louisa's dampened cheeks, and wandered off down the pebbled walkway towards the lake. There, he sharply turned to the left and tread farther and farther away from them, his sweeping robes and hair rippling at his back. None of them would see him again until well after supper.

* * *

 **A/N #2 : Thank you, as always, to those who review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N : Once again, I must offer my gratitude. I'm so thrilled that folks are enjoying this little tale. It makes all the hard work (and nerves!) feel worthwhile. **

**Also, special acknowledgment to munchiedi, who will understand why. I appreciate the head's up more than you know, lovely. Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention.**

 **Andddd I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter... :)  
**

 **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. _The Sound of Music_ is copyrighted to and belongs to Rodgers  & Hammerstein. I'm just playing in their sandboxes. No money, just fun. **

* * *

**Chapter 6**

 _"A dream that will need all the love you can give  
Every day of your life for as long as you live..."_

* * *

Hermione inhaled a shaky, apprehensive breath and knocked upon the wooden door three times, tapping as lightly as possible. Detecting the headmistress's heavy French accent on the opposite side, she exhaled her disappointment. _Bugger_. She had hoped to avoid speaking to anyone on staff for at least another day or two, but Madame Maxime was apparently 'adamant' to speak with her, according to Gaspard, the gamekeeper, who had retrieved her from the nearest mountainside this evening, where she had retreated over the past week to be in seclusion with her thoughts...and dithering heart.

There had been no excuse forthcoming that might explain away Hermione's impromptu return to Beauxtons. The aloof witch had been far too preoccupied with hiding from everyone she knew, including the wise headmistress, to provide a proper answer to anyone, save for her parents. She had written to them the day she left, and they alone held the clarification for Hermione's reclusive state.

That was all about to change. Unwillingly, Hermione stepped inside Madame Maxime's grand office and feigned a pleasant smile for the half giant. The headmistress returned Hermione's amicable greeting, though her eyes were troubled as they glanced over the former student's distraught expression. She lowered her feathered quill and encouraged Hermione to take a seat. "Please, sit down, Hermione," she addressed her hospitably. Hermione did as the towering witch commanded and intertwined her fidgety fingers together in her lap. "You've seemed most unhappy since you came back here, my dear, as well as withdrawn. We've barely seen you. What's the matter?"

"I... I'm sorry, Headmistress. I haven't meant to be dismissive." Hermione cast her eyes to the floor, unable to peer into Madame Maxime's all-knowing face.

"Why did Professor Snape send you back?"

"He didn't, Headmistress. I... Erm, I came of my own accord."

"You did?" Madame Maxime's eyes livened at that and her worried frown lengthened across her full, red lips. "Was he at all unkind to you?"

Hermione's attention flew back to her in a flash. "Oh, no, Headmistress! Not at all! He was...very kind," she spoke emphatically, a small blush seeping onto her cheeks, "and most generous, in fact. I just... I couldn't face him anymore."

"'Couldn't face him'?" Madame Maxime's pause was long and drawn out before she inquired, her tone serious but also intuitively astute, "Are you in love with him?"

Hermione's subsequent severe flush and abashed, brown irises conveyed her heart's response well enough, though the words that tumbled after spoke only of inner turmoil and conflict. "I don't know! I... I think I _may_ be. Pansy Parkinson seems to think I am."

"Does the professor return your feelings?"

"I don't know!" Flashing a deeply contorted frown, Hermione dropped her face into her hands, letting forth an exasperated sigh between barricaded, clenched fingers. "I didn't think he did, but Pansy Parkinson claims he does!"

Madame Maxime cocked her head curiously. "I don't know who this Pansy Parkinson is, Hermione, but she seems to have a better handle on your feelings than _you_ do."

 _Bugger is right!_ Keeping her torment well concealed, Hermione vehemently shook her head back and forth. "I know, I know! It's all so confusing to me, Headmistress! I suppose I didn't realise I _was_ in love with him until... Until the party he threw for the children a few nights ago. Oh, but I looked at him, Headmistress, and I... I felt like I couldn't breathe. There have been many times like that, in fact.

"And then when Pansy Parkinson pointed out to me what I was feeling—and I'd had my own wonderings about the professor's regard for me in recent weeks—and she confirmed his sentiments as well, I... I was afraid. I fled. I didn't say goodbye to anyone, not even the children. I just...ran away."

Madame Maxime's heavy-set eyebrows tapered. "That's very unlike you, my dear."

Again, Hermione fiercely rocked her head back and forth, clamping her fingers tighter to her face. "I know, I know! It doesn't make any sense!"

"You're not the sort of person to run away from a challenge, Hermione. You always confront them head on. I've greatly admired that about you, you know."

Hermione's hands uneasily dropped into her lap, revealing her reddened, angst-ridden mien. She chewed her bottom lip for a time and then replied, in a gravely soft-spoken tone, "I don't think I can do it, Headmistress. I really don't think I can face him..."

A slim, encouraging smile replaced Madame Maxime's frown. "What's stopping you, my dear?"

" _Everything_!" Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "Not the least of which, of course, is the children! I'd never want them to think I was somehow trying to replace their parents—"

"Who abandoned them to crime, murder, and war in the first place," Madame Maxime firmly renounced. "I dare say you'd make a most _welcoming_ substitute. Don't underestimate that."

"But..." Hermione stared on, markedly torn and unconvinced. "I'm their governess, Headmistress, and the professor, he..."

"If you think he may return your feelings, Hermione, then you owe to yourself _and_ to him to face those feelings together and see where they might lead, don't you think?"

 _Oh... Bugger_. Madame Maxime was (regrettably) right. _Just like Mum and Dad_ , she lamented with a cumbersome sigh. Their message had been figuratively the same as the headmistress's: climb the mountain and see where it goes.

Realising she had lost on this emotionally perilous, sentimental score, Hermione leaned forward in her chair and pleaded her case again. "Please, Headmistress, don't send me away! At least, allow me to stay until I can figure out where I want to go next? I'll do whatever work you require in the interim! I'll work for free, if I must! Anything at all!"

Madame Maxime threw up a sizable, elegantly decorated hand, calling for Hermione to desist with her begging. "Hermione, this is not a place for shutting out one's problems. I can't, in good conscience, allow my brightest student to remain locked away in this school—or on that mountainside, more like—avoiding the path that lies before her simply because it may be treacherous territory. You _must_ return to Professor Snape—"

"Oh, Headmistress, _please_ —"

"—and see to those children as well, to whom you've committed your services and owe the remainder of your contract, remember? 'Till next September." When Hermione slumped in her chair, silently crestfallen and with her fears transparent by a furrowed brow and pouting lips, Madame Maxime's smile warmed. "You _do_ love him and those children, don't you?" Hermione didn't reply but glanced nervously up at her mentor, and the elder witch's suspicions were confirmed. "There's nothing keeping you here, my dear. Your new path lies back in Scotland now."

Hermione's mouth felt entirely too dry. She pressed, her voice laden with hesitation, "And what if it leads to nowhere?"

"There will always be a way forward for you, Hermione," Madame Maxime steadfastly assured her. "How could you think otherwise? You're smart, resourceful, and, if not a governess or a professor, you'll do fine in whatever career path you set your mind to. I have no doubt of that."

Hermione issued a shuddering breath, looking as aggrieved and anxious as she had when she had entered the headmistress's office. With lingering trepidation, she rose to her feet, though her legs felt entirely too wobbly to move. They seemed as unstable as the last time she had stepped foot inside Madame Maxime's headquarters: when she had first agreed to accept the post of Severus Snape's governess; to teach and rear seven children; and to leave the comforts of Beauxbatons behind.

Hermione wandered towards the door, each step forward painfully nerve-wracking, and discerned Madame Maxime stalking up from behind as she reached for the handle. She turned around and craned her neck to stare up into the woman's considerate, kindhearted countenance.

Madame Maxime placed her enormous arms around Hermione and easily heaved the young witch into an inflexible hug. She patted Hermione's back a few times, and it was more like being whacked violently across her shoulders rather than a lighthearted tap of encouragement. When she pulled away from their embrace, Madame Maxime was still regarding her thoughtfully. "I'll be hoping for the best for you two," she offered in parting. "Do try not to be so afraid all the time, hmmm? You're more certain of what you want than you realise, my dear."

As much as she didn't dare admit it at the time, Hermione would come to fully appreciate the headmistress's implication in the weeks ahead. She swallowed hard and exited Madame Maxime's office—and into her ambiguous future—with as much credence and confidence as her conscience could convince her of. Ultimately, it wasn't much at all, but Hermione forcefully shoved her belongings into her suitcase once more and headed back to Scotland at first light, uncertain of what Fate might have in store between her and the somewhat daunting, yet highly enticing Severus Snape.

* * *

"Look! It's Miss Hermione! She's back!" screeched Kurt, who shot off his broomstick and bounded off towards the lake on foot. The rest of the children followed closely behind him, each gasping and shouting with elation at the shocking return of the governess they had sorely been missing.

Hermione greeted them each with quick but delighted pecks to their cheeks. Even Friedrich and Kurt accepted her overbearing kisses, though they scrunched their noses and turned red in the face. "Oh, children, I'm so glad to see you all!" she exclaimed cheerfully, tearing up at their welcoming reception.

"We've missed you!" Brigitta, Marta, and Gretl conveyed harmoniously.

"I've missed you, too!" said Hermione. She bent down to squeeze the youngest ones' cheeks, and they giggled with utter happiness. Hermione turned to Kurt next, who had spotted her first, and, seeing his still flushed expression, she nudged his arm. "How are you doing, Kurt?"

"I'm hungry!" He provided a dramatically sulky look for her benefit, and Hermione and the boy's siblings reacted with high-pitched laughter. "Mrs Weasley's away for the weekend to watch her daughter's Quidditch match."

"Oh?" Hermione inquired curiously.

"Yeah, so this house-elf, Dobby, has been cooking for us."

Hermione stared at their dissatisfied faces, perplexed. "But house-elves are excellent cooks."

"Not this one," Louisa snorted and stuck out her tongue; the others nodded aggressively. "Apparently, he's a free elf now and hasn't cooked for anyone in _ages_. He's doing it as a favour to Papa."

There came a slight, familiar tug on Hermione's trousers. She gladly peered down to discover Gretl standing there, per usual, except she was holding up her tiny index finger, which was wrapped in bandages. "Goodness, Gretl," Hermione declared, bending down to inspect her injury, "what on earth happened to your finger?"

"It got caught!"

"Caught in what?"

"Buckbeak's teeth!"

The children cackled harder at that, though it might have had more to do with Hermione's deeply puzzled response. She reared back, confused lines forming across her forehead. "Who's Buckbeak?"

"Papa's hippogriff," Louisa explained, her smile mischievous when the teenage witch's and Hermione's eyes met.

Hermione had no idea why Severus Snape, of all wizards, might have need of a hippogriff, but there were far too many other questions—more _important_ questions, rather—she intended to get to the bottom of first. She and the children began a casual stroll back towards the house, chatting merrily amongst themselves, with Marta and Gretl's small hands linked through Hermione's on either side.

Hermione soon cast her sights on the eldest Snape child, who was acting notably quieter than the rest. "How are you, Liesl?"

Liesl gave an unforthcoming shrug. "Just fair."

"Not staying out past curfew anymore, are you?" Hermione half teased and didn't miss the brief bit of colour that lit up Liesl's cheeks.

"No, not since Papa caught her trying to sneak out the other night!" Friedrich slyly interjected before Liesl could say a word, and he was heatedly shot down by his older sister within seconds.

" _You_ were with me, as I recall!"

"We _all_ were!" Brigitta chimed in, with a wicked gleam in her eyes that had Hermione stopping short of a few stone steps that led onto the patio.

Her disposition switched from sunny and light to stern in an instant. "What were you all doing trying to sneak out on your father?"

"Oh, it wasn't anything wicked or ill-intended, Miss Hermione, we promise!" explained Brigitta. "We wanted to see you is all."

" _What, hike to Beauxbatons_?" Hermione gaped at the lot of them. Was it possible for seven children to go spare in her week-long absence?

"No, not hike exactly," said Kurt, offering Hermione a sheepish but fun-filled grin. "We were going to use a Portkey to get there."

"A _Portkey_? What in Merlin's beard—? Children, those are _illegal_!" The widened shape of her eyes suddenly shifted into narrow slits, but only for the shamefaced boy with the bowl-style haircut. "Just how did you acquire a Portkey, Kurt?"

"Why are you insinuating that it was _me_ , Miss Hermione?"

"Because it _was_!" Marta broke up the tension with her incessant snickering, and the others joined in.

"Well, it was very naughty of you all and I hope you won't do anything like it again," Hermione quietly reprimanded them. "Imagine how worried your father would have been if he'd have woken up and found that you'd all gone missing."

Hermione could tell that that notion had the children reconsidering their well-intended scheme, for their cheeky grins waned a fraction or two. Hermione quickly made to switch topics. "Oh, I'm so glad to be back, assuming I haven't already been replaced?"

"Not yet," came a low, soft register from mere feet in front of them.

Hermione rattled and unintentionally locked eyes with Severus Snape, standing upon the highest stone step and staring down at them with an unreadable air; it was neither playful nor peeved. If he had also been eavesdropping, there was no telling how much of their conversation he had overheard.

An anxious heat instantly crept up Hermione's neck and onto her face at the velvety sound of the man's voice and she felt her blush worsening when she and the professor's gazes lingered, though it wasn't for long. The children's endearing excitement soon butted in on their short but private moment.

"Papa, look!"

"Miss Hermione's back!"

"She came back to us!"

"She's here to stay!" Gretl, who was the last to have spoken, glanced up at Hermione, fresh apprehension creeping onto her youthful face. "You _are_ staying, Miss Hermione, aren't you?"

Hermione, who hadn't so much as blinked or glanced away from Severus Snape, was finally distracted from his striking presence by the sudden appearance of another, who came stalking forward from behind the wizard's dark, lanky frame and sent her heart plunging into her stomach. Whatever small hopes Hermione carried for this vital moment with the professor were dashed by Pansy Parkinson and her reserved, rather cold greeting.

"Miss Granger, you've returned," Pansy observed with what Hermione suspected to be false niceties. "Have you come for a short visit with the children?"

"Well, I... I suppose..."

" _What_?" several of the children's taken aback reactions erupted at the same time; each grabbed for an arm or a shoulder or a hand of the governess's that was within reach. "You _are_ staying, Miss Hermione?"

"Oh, _please_?"

"You just got here!"

"You can't leave—"

"Children," the professor declared, speaking determinedly and above the disarray with a level of assertiveness that Hermione couldn't match, "that's enough badgering Miss Granger. She's only just arrived. Now, inside with you. Dinner's ready."

Each of the children begrudgingly stepped away from Hermione and meandered into the house, ushered gently along by Pansy, which Hermione thought considerably odd. Had she taken over Hermione's responsibilities in her absence? _Surely, she wouldn't have. She's an assistant professor...not a governess_. The children chanced peeks at Hermione over their shoulders a couple of times as they left, as if afraid that she might Disapparate in the span of time it would take them to consume their meals.

Hermione inwardly upbraided herself for causing such a dubious response from the youngsters, and Severus Snape must have read her mind—or so Hermione assumed—for he reiterated moments later, once they were alone, "You left without so much as a goodbye. Not even to the children."

Hermione's gaze lowered in dismay. "Yes, I know. That was very wrong of me. Forgive me, sir."

A quiet, pensive regard befell Severus Snape's angular features, his midnight irises fixed upon her, regardless. "Why did you?" he finally asked, and his register was lower and softer than before.

Slowly, Hermione's attentions drew back to his, and she found she no longer held the brave stamina to confess the words nestled deep within her heart. What was the point? Pansy Parkinson was evidently in Severus Snape's life and, if their clipped exchanges were anything to go by, the witch was becoming an increasingly permanent fixture by the day. Why had she expected to find the professor and the children alone today? _Or any day from here on_ , she convinced herself of, forcing down a depressed sigh.

"It no longer matters, I can assure you, Professor," Hermione settled on stilted, dishonest words; each one felt like a stabbing knife to her heart.

"But, Miss Granger—"

"Please, don't ask me again. Anyway, the reason no longer exists."

Muddled by the vagueness of that reply, Severus Snape's stare sharpened as he watched Hermione ease up the stone steps. She was avoiding eye contact now. Once she reached the top step, however, both the young witch and he unconsciously drew closer, leaning near enough that a brush of a hand or an elbow might have been easily excused; but neither closed the minuscule gap between them.

"Miss Granger," Severus Snape uttered when Hermione started to turn her body away from him, and she froze in place, "you _are_ here to stay, aren't you?"

Her eyes fastened to his once more, and it seemed peculiar to consider the lapse in their stares an eternity since the last, only moments before. "I don't believe you really have any need for a governess anymore, Professor."

Severus Snape's eyes glimmered at that, as though he was terrified or panic-stricken by such a suggestion. Hermione swiftly reasoned away what she saw, surmising that she must have been mistaken. If the misgiving was truly there then it receded as soon as it presented itself. Hermione tore her gaze away from him and headed for the house, never catching the wizard's sour look that materialised in her absence. **  
**

* * *

Pansy clutched her goblet of wine, unaware of how her knuckles whitened under too tight a grasp. She gnawed at the inside of her cheek as well, staring with desperation at the back of Severus Snape's head. That long, straggly hair she used to imagine in her youth tousling whiffed delicately across his broad shoulders with the calm, evening breeze. He was hunched over his bedroom balcony, seemingly deep in thought and staring out onto the tranquil lake.

 _No... Not the bloody lake_ , she registered with sharp, clenching heartache.

Ever since the start of dinner, Pansy's fraying nerves felt as though the sturdy walls, with their attractive, ivory floral design and fine trim, were closing in on her, allowing her little wiggle room to breathe. Panic attacks were supposedly customary for war survivors. She knew Draco used to have them fairly frequently after the Battle of Hogwarts, until he had finally broken down and sought treatment from St Mungo's. Pansy had never considered herself prone to breakdowns which might require, say, a Calming Potion—or anything outside of her own personal techniques, really—and she suspected she wasn't having one now; but it sure as Merlin and Circe felt like one was in the works.

 _No_ , she understood with terrible longing the more she stared helplessly at an unmindful Severus Snape's backside from the divine comfort of his bedroom. This was indeed heartache, and its excruciating pain was entirely new to the young witch, who was completely unfamiliar with such a horrid practice. Why did people fall in love? One was much better off without such suffering.

Severus Snape had barely acknowledged her since that bloody former governess of his had arrived, apparently content to wine and dine with them that evening despite not being invited to do so. Hermione Granger hadn't seemed all that comfortable to be amongst them anyhow, so Pansy wasn't sure why she hadn't just ruddy well left them in peace to the remainder of their meal.

Then again, Severus Snape— _her_ Severus; or so she had come to think she might regard him—had insisted that that wretched woman stay the weekend, and the children were equally relentless that she not go. By then, their awkward dinner had concluded, along with Pansy's stubborn 'look the other way' approach.

It was impossible to miss how Severus Snape's eye wandered throughout the evening; or during other past private moments Pansy wasn't meant to have seen. Pansy had made sure to place herself carefully next to him during dinner, whilst Hermione Granger was pushed to the opposite end of the table. Yet, that hadn't stopped the one-time governess from captivating the professor's undivided attention, even as Pansy draped herself all over his arm and made agonising attempt after attempt to coax him into a conversation. Those damnable dark eyes sought their affections elsewhere, no matter what Pansy said or did to sway him, as if they could stare right through her blasted skull straight to where Hermione Granger sat, mute and polite and utterly uninteresting.

What the hell was the bloody attraction between them anyway? Pansy couldn't make heads or tails of it. Hermione Granger was awfully plain and unimpressive looking, with far too much hair and little natural grace to speak of. She was well mannered, yes, but nothing in her demeanour or style was remarkable or, at the very least, left a memorable impression. To Pansy, amongst a group of women she would have surely blended in with the dull drapes and furnishings. The only exception that seemed to garner Hermione Granger attention was her wretched mouth, and that mouth was exceedingly opinionated and outspoken, as Pansy had come to understand the night of Severus Snape's party, when the governess hadn't hesitated to speak out of turn against the Minister of Magic.

 _What a fool of herself she had made_ , Pansy thought at the time. Apparently, Hermione Granger's bold words and decorum hadn't fazed Severus Snape; if anything, they had enhanced his regard for her.

Pansy flinched, as if her skin had been pinched, recalling Severus Snape's and Hermione Granger's intimate dance on the patio that night. That moment, which wasn't intended for anyone else's eyes, sealed Pansy's reservations about Severus Snape's intentions. She thought she might have been winning him over once Hermione Granger finally exited their lives. _But now..._

Pansy forced down the strange lump in her throat. Their disaster of a dinner, which she had barely managed to stomach—and her reaction had had nothing to do with Dobby's decent cooking skills—had all but physically stamped upon Pansy's broken heart where Severus Snape's heart lay, and it wasn't with her. _It will never be with me_ , she dejectedly concluded by the time she had dragged her feet up the stairs to bed, where a preoccupied Severus Snape dismissed her without so much as a light peck to her hand. His mind was clearly elsewhere, distracted, and not at all focused on the fetching, dolled-up lady staring up at him with unmistakable yearning.

Pansy waited a few moments to gather her thoughts—and unravelling emotions—before she summoned enough nerve to enter the wizard's bedroom, unasked, in order to confront him. She had found him standing idly outside on his balcony and, as she approached from behind, she caught the flicker of another figure ghosting over the pebbled walkway in his backyard, unaware of still holding the faithful attentions of the man whom Pansy thought was intended to be hers: Hermione Granger.

"Forgive my intrusion," Pansy grunted, despising how her normally smooth, unemotional voice cracked under the weight of her own despair. Severus Snape lightly turned his head and eyed her sidelong, but he seemed hardly at all startled by her unannounced visit to his personal chambers. "I... I thought we might talk?"

Severus Snape was silent. Instead, he diverted his sights back to where they had been fixed before Pansy's intrusion. She wanted to be furious—to break the man as much as he was breaking her in that tearful moment—but, for some confounding reason, Pansy's aching heart wouldn't allow it. What exactly was there to be angry about outside of finding herself a failure at not securing Severus Snape's affections? Despite all of her flirtatious, meticulous efforts over the past several months in which she had pursued her one-time Potions professor, he had never shown a return for what she sought—at least, not in an open fashion that solidified or so much as glinted at a deeper attachment beyond friendship.

With sudden reluctance in her step, Pansy approached the ledge of the professor's balcony and turned to face his softened profile. He kept his distance, however, both in direction and in his regard. It was too obvious to be ignored any longer, and Pansy inhaled a shaky breath as she made to say her farewells. There would no comforting resolution to having her heart shattered, but the words tripped out of Severus Snape before Pansy could so much as speak a word.

"I'm sorry, Pansy," he apologised quietly, those black, alluring eyes turning momentarily to the ground before resuming their watch of another woman presently strolling his property. "It's no use, you and I. I would be horribly dishonest to you, and to myself, were I to allow matters to progress any farther. I've been unfair to you. Had I known how I felt before this night—before the party or before you began spending so much time with me and the children here—I'd never have put you through any of this—"

"Don't, Severus," Pansy cut him off. He blinked and turned his head, and it was nearly unbearable for her to look him in the face. "Don't say it. _Please_...not another word. Fond as I am of you, I... I don't think there's anything to be gained by saying anything more."

Effortlessly reading between the lines of those pain-filled words, Severus Snape bowed his head, silently understanding. Pansy wished she could tear her eyes from his—or vice versa—but, for the moment, neither could turn away. "Now, if you'll forgive me," she choked out, determined not to lose her composure in front of him, "I'll just... I'll be on my way back to Hogwarts...for now... Until I figure something out."

Severus Snape fully turned to her but, before he could inquire after her unclear professional plans, she stepped forward, rose onto tiptoe, and pressed a feathery kiss to his cheek. Her voice trembled a little as she forcefully put some breadth between them and offered one last parting gift, one she hoped might be returned in the form of better luck for herself in her next round with Love. "And somewhere out there, I think...perhaps by that very lake...you'll find who you and your children _really_ need in your lives."

For a precious second or two, Severus Snape was convinced that his heart had ceased to beat. That evening, he was able to acknowledge Pansy Parkinson with a new pair of eyes and a much deeper appreciation. She fled his room before he could thank her properly and wish her well, though, and he hoped that, somehow, she detected from his obliging expression that he wished her the same happiness. **  
**

* * *

He found her seated on the ground in an unusual spot: nearly hidden amongst the many blossoms of fluttering edelweiss planted at the front of the house. He almost missed her, in fact, since she was situated beneath the shadow of an enormous tree, as well as the stark cover of night; but slight movement to his left caught his keen eyesight as he came around to the front of the estate, searching for her.

He had followed Hermione's trail down the walkway next to the lake, where he had been watching her earlier on his balcony, confused when he hadn't stumbled upon her. It came to him midway through the hunt that she might have retreated to the mountains. Thus, he had headed for the front gates, intending to follow her a mile or two down the road, if need be.

He was surprised, therefore, to discover that she hadn't wandered far. Hermione was deep in contemplation, unaware of being quietly observed from the shadows. Her wand was tucked behind her ear, nestled between a few wisps of curly hair, which the professor found ridiculously bewitching. She was thoughtfully spinning the small bouquet of edelweiss he had given her weeks ago between her fingers, sighing every so often but never diverting her attention from their dainty, delicate petals.

His approaching footsteps rustled the grass and finally drew Hermione out of her repose. Her head snapped up but her startled face speedily recovered when Severus Snape proceeded to light his wand, thereby revealing himself. "Oh!" she gasped, blushing hard, though the radiation in her cheeks was harder to make out at night. "I'm sorry, Professor. Was there something you wanted?"

"No, no, sit, please," Severus Snape insisted and nonchalantly ambled the rest of the way over to her. "I didn't expect to find you here."

Hermione glanced absentmindedly at the ground. "I was...just taking a stroll to clear my head."

"I see." The wizard astonished Hermione by taking a sudden seat next to her on the grass. He flared out the bottom of his frock coat so as to not dirty the fabric and placed his back towards the flowers, keeping himself facing her. His wand remained lit, allowing them to discern one another's expressions a little better in the darkness. "I've been thinking a lot, too," he began slowly, riddled emotion mangling his hushed words, "and there are two things that I still haven't quite worked out: firstly, why you ran away from us—"

"'Ran away'?" Hermione blurted out, blinking guiltily.

"—and what made you decide to come back?"

"Oh! Well, I..." Catching sight of the edelweiss in her hand, Hermione frantically threw them behind her back and straightened her posture. "I had an obligation to fulfil. I _did_ sign on to be your governess until next September, sir, as I'm sure you recall?"

"Yes, of course..." Severus Snape regarded her considerately, intrigued and without scruple. "Was that all?"

Hermione's eyes bore uneasily but more heavily into his, no longer able to glance elsewhere. "And I missed the children, too. Terribly."

"That's fair...but nothing else?" he pressed ever so softly, his irises fierce as they stared on.

Hermione floundered under such intense, breath-taking scrutiny. She was positive that if it was possible for cheeks to actually glow in darkness then hers must surely be doing so. "Should there be any other reason?" she gulped out, though her mouth had gone dry.

Then Severus Snape thwarted Hermione by darting his gaze towards the comfortable shadows that surrounded them; the darkness that seemed to so divinely mirror the man's own captivating mystique. "Well, I'd thought you might... That is to say, I'd _hoped_ you would..."

Hermione unconsciously inched forward in the grass. "Yes, sir?"

His stare fell back on her and her body went stock still; she couldn't even be sure if her heart was still beating. "Nothing was the same whilst you were away, you see...and it will all be terribly wrong again after you leave... _If_ you leave..."

"Well, I... I think it's obvious, isn't it?" she started to reply, albeit woefully. "I don't think you really have need of me any longer."

"That isn't true," he insisted most adamantly, forcing the gentle lines on Hermione's face to warp into an expression of utmost confusion.

"But, surely, Miss Parkinson—"

"Miss Parkinson is leaving. She has her own professional life to see to, and her personal life won't include looking after my children."

"Then... You and Miss Parkinson...?" Hermione started and stopped herself, unable—or unwilling—to complete the question.

Severus Snape's pallid countenance remained unconventionally soft but a flash of resolution shimmered in those eyes. "We were never committed to one another," he explained, the words faint on his lips. "We've agreed to go our separate ways."

"Oh..." The avid pounding in Hermione's chest became excruciatingly aware to her then; yes, her heart _was_ still beating, and actually thumping harder than ever before. "I'm sorry to hear that, Professor."

"You are?" His inquiry seemed innocent, but Hermione swore she caught a twinkle of amusement behind his eyes before it passed.

"Shou - Shouldn't I be?"

To make matters evermore nail-biting, Severus Snape shocked Hermione by reaching forward and, with his non-wand hand, offering her left cheek a warm brush of his hand. Those slim, long digits dawdled close to her jawline and, when she didn't recoil from his light touch, they tucked themselves against her flesh, fondly cupping that same cheek. "I'd think not," he whispered with surprising feeling, drawing closer and closer to her, "because one can't pursue one person when..."

"Yes?" Hermione could hardly breathe, her lips slightly parted.

"When they're in love with someone else."

Hermione noiselessly hitched a breath, the breeze from the nearby mountains fluttering through her thick curls and the professor's straight, shoulder-length locks; she didn't so much as shift her eyes or blink, too taken to move. Was it all true? Was Severus Snape _really_ declaring what had consumed her every waking thought—and desperate hope—over the past week spent parted from him and the children?

As she stared longingly into his eyes now, which were quite close, and could easily perceive their extraordinarily direct and unobtrusive regard for her, Hermione, at last, understood the depth of the wizard's sincerity. It matched her own heart's esteem and she shuddered a sigh of relief. "You know...I'd been trying to work out..."

"Yes?"

"I'd read somewhere about edelweiss..."

Severus Snape cocked his head, listening intently. "Oh?" His purr was mild and even, like the wind. "What did you learn?"

"That gifting edelweiss is not apparently meant as a mere token of goodwill but..." She paused, bringing the stock of edelweiss back 'round in front of her and fastening her gaze on Severus Snape. His return stare was equally fiery, despite being somewhat obscured by their murky surroundings. "An expression of their deeper commitment."

There was a crafty smile that cut through the darkness, though it wasn't in the form of Severus Snape's lips but by the depths of his unwavering scrutiny. "It would appear that you're correct. Books have served you well."

Hermione's shy mouth gave way to a smirk. "In some respects, yes. In others, particularly in matters of the heart, not so much." She momentarily toyed with her bottom lip. "My parents...and Madame Maxime...pushed me to come back and face you."

A thrilling, small smile, again, broke the corners of Severus Snape's normally stiff mouth. "And what did they tell you?"

"That you have to look for your life...and your heart; to follow your path, wherever it may lead."

He slid closer to her, the tip of his sharp, hooked nose almost touching hers. She could feel his sweet, excited breaths on her face. "And have you found your life...and your heart...Hermione?"

Hermione was besotted by the second, fond utterance of her name. It was soothing and warm and felt like home. "I... I think I have." She immediately rethought that conclusion and leaned in so that their lips might brush each other's. "I _know_ I have."

Just as their heated lips made contact, the verification Hermione's heart had sought was finally appeased. "I love you," he confirmed with an exceedingly tender address, his mouth lightly pushing against hers.

Before Hermione was completely swept up in their all-consuming embrace, as well as the addictive, flavourful taste of the wizard's mouth, she readily returned his affections whilst breathing an aroused moan. "I love you, too...Severus."

* * *

 **A/N #2 : Two more to go...**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N : Some fluff followed by some angst and then... Well, you'll find out! :)  
**

 **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. _The Sound of Music_ is copyrighted to and belongs to Rodgers  & Hammerstein. I'm just playing in their sandboxes. No money, just fun. **

* * *

**Chapter 7**

 _"How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?"_

* * *

In the distance, local muggle church bells sounded, echoing up from the bottom of the Scottish hillside. They weren't ringing for Hermione or her wizarding husband to be, but they ought to have been, for today was the couple's wedding nuptials, and the happy ceremony was about to get underway.

Hermione chanced one final peek at herself in the full-length mirror to her right, taken aback yet again by the remarkably alluring image of herself as a bride. She had never seen herself in such a magnificent light before: she appeared completely grown up for a change, with a fair but simple dose of makeup Liesl had helped paint onto her face, and curls that weren't their usual insanely frizzed array but soft and flowy and attractively cascading over her shoulders. Her white silk wedding gown was unfussy but stunning, nevertheless, with a V-shaped neckline, long sleeves, and an extensive train. A smooth veil, as well as a slender headpiece and bouquet that consisted of edelweiss, completed the lovely visual of Hermione Granger, about to take the married surname of Snape.

Her mother, Helen, and the children had been affirming all morning whilst they readied themselves for the couple's wedding that she made a 'radiant' bride. Yet, Hermione had avoided the mirror mostly, rather content to help the girls shimmy into and unwrinkle their dresses, Glamour their hair into intricate buns or half-up dos, and ensure that their own bouquets of edelweiss were properly charmed so as not to wilt during the ceremony.

For someone who had never prided herself on being a great beauty, Hermione was astonished at the reflection that stared back at her on this special day. Her mother and the children were right: she _was_ a most radiant bride.

"Papa's going to love your dress, Miss Hermione!" a sweet, observing voice spoke next to her, just out of the mirror's range. A slight tug on her gown brought Hermione's eyes down to Gretl, who was beaming up at her, irises delighted with what they saw. The utterly angelic expression of love in her eyes, as well as charming dress and hair piece laced with edelweiss, was enough to bring Hermione to tears. What the little girl exclaimed next nearly had her choking back a sob. "After the ceremony, I'll get to call you Mummy!"

"You're free to call me Mummy now, Gretl, if you'd like?"

"No, no, no," she insisted, bobbing her head of wavy blonde curls back and forth; her perfectly miniature, cream-coloured dress swayed in unison, " _after_ you and Papa kiss!"

"Very well," Hermione humoured her and bent down to earnestly kiss the top of her head.

Gretl skipped away, dragging Marta and Brigitta into the hallway with her. Hermione watched them go, smiling at their wonderfully endearing matching outfits and individualised hairstyles for hers and Severus's truly magical occasion. Liesl and Louisa were checking on everything downstairs in the ballroom, where guests were gathering for the couple's nuptials and the after party to follow. Friedrich and Kurt, meanwhile, were on the first level and getting ready alongside Severus.

How had these dear seven people, along with their father, become Hermione's entire world? And why had she ever held any reservations about coming here?

Hermione smiled and surveyed the picturesque, splendid bouquet of edelweiss in her hands, its stems wrapped in a Slytherin green bow. Another hand came into view and lightly grasped her wrist. Hermione turned to her mother, the only other person still in the room with her, and didn't miss the contented tears that were welling in Helen's matching brown eyes.

 _"I'd like your father's permission," Hermione recalled Severus expressing to her six months ago, as they watched the sunset in front of the lake, with his wiry arms lovingly snaked around her waist. His lips tickled, nuzzled, and pecked at her right earlobe._

 _Hermione wove their arms tighter together and clutched their interlinked hands. "Don't be surprised if he's rather..."_

 _"What," Severus ceased kissing her ear, "disapproving of me?"_

 _"More 'stubborn' than anything else. You may have to do quite a bit of convincing."_

 _Hermione could practically feel the professor's smile at her back. "That shouldn't be a problem. I'm a brilliant negotiator."_

 _Hermione snorted, amused. Slowly, another consideration came to her, one far more profound. "Shouldn't you also ask...?"_

 _"The children?" he murmured into her ear, causing a rousing shiver to course down her spine. "I already have."_

 _Hermione's head whipped sideways, startled eyes staring up at him in amazement. "You did? When? What did they say?"_

 _"What do you think they said?" Hermione only stared on at him, worried lines covering her brow, so he answered with a soft chuckle, "Yes, of course! Surely, you must know how fond they are of you?"_

 _Reassured, Hermione gladly leaned into Severus's embrace and felt his warm lips caress her forehead. "And I'm even_ more _fond of them..."_

"You ready, love?" Hermione vaguely heard her mother inquire, which brought her out of the moving memory she had been replaying in her mind.

Hermione grinned thoughtfully at her teary-eyed mother, convinced that, by the end of the day, her cheeks would likely be sore from smiling so much. She was about to respond when Liesl and Lousia came bustling into the room, wearing the same puffy, creamy dresses and head pieces, as well as carrying matching bouquets, as their younger sisters. "Miss Hermione," Louisa informed her, "the marriage official from the Ministry of Magic is here, and all the guests have arrived. We're ready to begin."

"All right, I'm coming."

"I better go find your father." Helen moseyed ahead of Hermione, whilst Liesl held back in order to carry Hermione's train. "Who knows how much of a bother he's being to your husband right now when he _should_ be getting ready to walk me down the aisle!"

Hermione laughed under her breath, watching her determined mother charge off across the hall and disappear down one of the side staircases. As Hermione, too, made her way towards the end of the hallway, she was greeted by the rest of the girls, all of whom were waiting for her and were busying themselves by twirling in place or fixing their hair pieces or nervously adjusting the red bows tied to their bouquets. They each took a precious moment to "ooo" and "ahhh" at their former governess-turned future stepmother, and Hermione made sure to hug and kiss every one of them before they floated down the stairs together to wait in front of the closed off ballroom doors.

The butler, Alfred, was there awaiting their presence, along with Hermione's father, George. Alfred acknowledged Hermione with a short, respectable bow, a far cry from his and the young witch's first clipped introduction over a year ago. He was in charge of making sure the festivities ran smoothly and, at Hermione's appearance, he quickly shuffled into the ballroom to let the musicians know to begin the procession.

The ballroom erupted with music from inside its quarters. Gretl and Marta gasped and clapped excitedly as the heavy oak doors magically opened on their own, and that cued the children to begin entering one by one. Each of the girls waltzed into the centre of the ballroom from youngest to oldest, their steps matching the musical percussion. Liesl was last and fanned out Hermione's magnificent train first, giving it one last meticulous inspection before she joined her siblings. She winked and hugged Hermione encouragingly before vanishing into the room.

Then it was Hermione's turn and, as the music switched and signalled her entrance, she roped her arm through her father's, who was already tearing up, and stepped into view. She wasn't at all nervous, and her eyes came to settle on Severus's almost immediately. For her, that wasn't surprising, for he was most assuredly the handsomest fellow in the whole room, with Friedrich and Kurt standing proudly next to him and posing as very close seconds. Like their father and George Granger, they each had edelweiss pinned to the lapels of their black wizarding robes. Draco stood at the end of the short line of male Snape family members, dressed in a similar fashion.

Hermione only had eyes for the inky-haired man with unorthodoxly striking features, however, and proceeded down a burgundy aisle that had been rolled out for the occasion to her life and her future. She couldn't focus on the watchful faces of any of their guests, such as the hard-to-miss Madame Maxime, or her parents' blissful expressions. In that moment, she couldn't even dart her eyes towards any of the children awaiting the couple's vows.

Without unlocking their loving gazes from one another, Severus reached out a hand to gently take Hermione's from her father's. Hermione handed her edelweiss to Liesl and extracted her wand from where it had been concealed inside her bouquet. The pair of them rearranged themselves so as to stand before each other, one hand grasping the other's and, in the other, their wands at the ready.

The ceremony was concise, as both preferred it be, but romantic nonetheless for being short and to the point. There was the brief exchanging of martial vows that had been pre-rehearsed by both parties; Hermione teared up despite keeping her voice levelled and Severus could only mumble his way through his portion, turning nearly as red in the face as the bows on the children's bouquets. There was also the bonding of magic with both of their wands, which the children found particularly fascinating, especially Marta and Gretl. That portion was over as swiftly as it began, though, much to the children's pouty disappointment. They would have liked to better understand how the inner workings of their parents' wands forged an invisible connection that only the two of them could share or feel, but their boundless series of questions would have to wait.

By the end of the nuptials, Hermione and Severus had all but forgotten that anyone else was in the ballroom with them and observing their every move, save for the elderly male Ministry official conducting every step of the process. They were far too focused on staring into one another's eyes, more grateful than ever for the gift of each other and wishing to commit every special moment of their marriage ceremony to memory.

Finally, they were declared husband and wife. As Severus threw back Hermione's veil and bent his neck in order to lock passionate lips with his lovely new wife, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, startling them out of what had felt like a mostly private affair. Hermione giggled against Severus's mouth and pressed on the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. Any lingering embarrassment from her new husband was quickly forgotten in favour of more eager lip locking.

The children were the loudest enthusiasts of all. When Severus and Hermione cruised down the aisle as newly Mr and Mrs Snape, they were followed closely by all seven cheerful faces, who greeted them in the main hall with more smiles and congratulatory wishes. More than anything, however, it was having each of them refer to Hermione as 'Mum' or 'Mother', without any glimmer of hesitation, that touched them most of all.

"Mummy!" Gretl exclaimed, greeting Hermione last. The little witch leapt into her former governess's arms and curled hers rather possessively around Hermione's neck, squeezing tightly and affectionately. "I have a _real_ Mummy now!" With that, she turned appreciatively to an understated but deeply affected Severus standing nearby, without loosening her grip on the mother she now had in her life. "Thank you, Papa! Thank you so much for giving me a mummy, too!"

"Of course, little one," he managed without losing his composure, though only just. "Is she not all you could ever want in a mother?"

"Yes, Papa!" Gretl declared, and her siblings joined in. " _Yes_!"

* * *

"You don't suppose the boys found themselves ill-equipped to deal with the children, do you? What if they've played a naughty trick on them and ran off?"

Severus smirked and eased a fretful-looking Hermione against his hip. Her concerned eyes kept roving over every inch of the back of the professor's— _their_ —property, searching the lake and the skies alike for any signs of the seven young faces they were (impatiently) waiting on. "If they did, my dear," Severus tried to reassure his new wife quietly, "they wouldn't have gotten far. I have a special Trace enacted. If the children wander too far from the property, it notifies me, which would have meant you and me cutting our honeymoon short days ago."

"Yes, but you _know_ how wicked the children can be, especially Kurt!" She turned to her humoured husband, shooting him a critical frown. "Perhaps they resorted to some form of muggle trickery to get away! They enjoy giving new people a hard time. Poor Mr Potter—"

"'Poor Mr Potter' indeed!" Severus all but hissed, obviously unsympathetic to the infamous wizard's possible plight. "He agreed to help Draco look after the children whilst we were away, Hermione. I'm fully prepared to reprimand that incompetent dunderhead if it turns out he couldn't handle them."

Hermione's scowl deepened, curiosity lines surfacing along her brow. "If he's so 'incompetent', why did you agree to let him help?"

"I didn't," Severus sorely corrected her. "Draco informed me as we were about to Apparate. I had little time to do anything about it."

"But why do you dislike Mr Potter so much? He seems like a friendly, decent fellow."

Severus's expression became pointedly restrained, his low voice devoid of feeling as he answered her with a simple, "My list of reasons is too long and extensive to provide you with a short version."

Hermione's lips instantly broke into a smile. It left the wizard quite easily enthralled. "You're utterly wretched, Severus Snape!"

Severus complemented her visible amusement with a rather devious smile of his own. He bent his neck to kiss her mouth. "That must be why you agreed to marry me," he growled lowly and close to her face, causing an enticed shiver to shoot up Hermione's spine as his lips warmly brushed hers.

Hermione opened her mouth to receive him, smiling defiantly. "I'm afraid the list is too long and extensive," she shot back, breathless at getting caught up in the moment, as if they were still alone on their blissful honeymoon.

Soon enough, the newlyweds were veritably overrun by the passionate snog that ensued outdoors, to the point that they barely registered the butler, Alfred, creeping up behind them minutes later. He gave several light "Ahem," attempts to garner their attention, but the Snapes' make out session carried on, despite his efforts.

Finally, Alfred ruefully tapped his boss on the shoulder. "My apologises, sir, but Molly wishes me to inform you that the food is ready. Everything's been arranged for your surprise luncheon on the patio with the children."

"Erm, thank you, Alfred," Severus awkwardly grunted, rearing back from Hermione, who was draped in his fold now. She chuckled under her breath, smitten by his slight mortification, as well as the unamused aged butler's. Alfred hurried away, his complexion wearing a brighter, rose-tinted shade that wasn't the norm.

"We're not on our honeymoon anymore, love, so you best start behaving yourself," Hermione jested and poked Severus squarely in the chest.

A seductive snarl rose to challenge Hermione's fun-filled provocation. In the next instant, she was practically swept right off her feet as the possessive wizard ushered her seamlessly back into his arms once more, bringing them nose to nose. The sudden return of the children, however, who emerged moments later from the lakeside boat, along with their temporary sitters, Draco and Harry Potter, drew the couple's second ardent snog fest to a close.

It wasn't until all seven children had nearly run them down, however, shouting feverishly about their return, that Hermione and Severus forced themselves apart, their cheeks blazing like the very recent honeymooners they were. Even their hair was tousled and out of sorts from too eager fingers pulling at each other's scalps.

The little ones bounded into their arms first but the elders soon followed suit, each giddy and craving to hear about their parents' honeymoon trip in the Alps, where they had romantically retraced the steps where Severus's grandparents first met and fell in love two centuries ago. Draco and Harry held back, remaining seated for a time, with their heads close together, in the self-steering lakeside boat. Severus and Hermione barely noticed them, though, too overwhelmed by the children and all their commotion.

"Papa! Papa!" Marta greeted, endearingly throwing her arms around Severus's neck as he made to pick her up. "You're back!"

"We weren't expecting you until this evening!" Brigitta stated, surprised, as she firmly embraced Hermione and then her father.

"Yeah, anyway, why are you back so soon?" Kurt asked innocently enough, though the tint of suspicion laden with disappointment to the question he posed wasn't lost on Severus or Hermione.

Severus playfully ruffled the boy's hair and he darted backward out of his father's grasp, grinning broadly. "Why, did you have something cheeky in mind for us, son?"

"Not at all, Papa!"

When all the children proceeded to snicker, Hermione shot Kurt a softly reprimanding eye and placed Gretl back on the ground so that the littlest could hug Severus, too. "I should hope not, Kurt! Your father and I were missing you all so much that we decided to come back a little earlier than planned."

"We missed you, too, _Mum_!" Louisa issued on everyone's behalf, bursting into fits of light-hearted giggles, which her siblings harmonised.

There were more adamant hugs and kisses before Severus took over, lightly ordering the enthused children to settle down. He then announced, his tone and face considerably serious this time, "We have some news to share."

The children's eyes livened at that, intrigued and anxious for more details. "News?" several of them pressed at the same time.

"The very best, I should think..." After making certain that he had everyone's undivided attention, Severus retrieved two wrinkled envelops from inside his coat pocket. They had already been torn open. "Friedrich, Louisa," he addressed them individually; both stalked forward to accept the envelopes he held in his hand, "these are for you."

Friedrich and Louisa turned over their envelopes, scrutinising the unknown contents—and then each other—inquisitively for a brief pause. "But these are addressed to _you_ , Papa," said Friedrich, making mention of the wizard's name that was clearly penned on the front of them. He and Louisa gave their father a most addled look over.

Severus shrugged and casually roped an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "Open them. Go on. You have my permission."

At Kurt and Gretl's additional cries of insistence, Friedrich and Louisa dug into the envelopes to retrieve whatever was inside. More befuddlement befell their freckled faces as they unfurled pieces of parchment that contained the Ministry of Magic's official seal. Once they began to read, Friedrich's contorted expression morphed into stunned silence, whilst Louisa issued a quiet gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. Their wide eyes, moved and clearly taken aback, darted from the letters to Severus and then back again, as if in disbelief.

" _What is it_?" Liesl prodded when neither sibling conveyed a word. She grasped Friedrich by the elbow.

"It... It's from the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," breathed Louisa, her voice unsteady as her eyes settled weightily upon her father; they had quickly dampened, too, with unshed tears. "It seems our custody sentences have been finalised..."

" _And_?" Brigitta and Kurt hounded in unison, craning their necks to try to read their brother's and sister's verdicts.

"Papa's been granted full custody...of _both_ of us," Friedrich uttered so faintly that his words were, at once, drowned out by their siblings' overjoyed hooting and hollering.

Every child took turns hugging Friedrich and Louisa, congratulating them and patting them delightedly on the backs several times over. Hermione smothered them with motherly kisses and affection of her own. Severus inched in last, seeking an all-consuming embrace that caught everyone off guard, save for Hermione.

By then, both teens were overcome with emotion. Friedrich burrowed his face in the wizard's shoulder, their exchange of words muffled and unclear to anyone but the two men. Their tight, snug embrace lasted for some time. When Severus finally stepped back and cupped one side of his son's face in his hand, Friedrich's cheeks were splotchy and wet from crying; but he hardly appeared to care and neither did his father. Severus held Friedrich's gaze for a thoughtful moment and then he drew closer to Louisa, who rapidly fell to pieces in his arms when he sought to bring her to his chest.

"Welcome to the family, Louisa," Hermione overheard him whisper in the girl's ear, sounding as choked up as the openly snivelling teen was. She reacted by digging her fingers deeper into his back, and they remained that way for a while. Louisa's suppressed sobs eventually subsided and it was only then that she chanced stepping away from Severus, hopeful not to lose her composure again.

"We thought we'd celebrate," Hermione delicately interrupted; she reached out and snatched up Friedrich's and Louisa's hands, "with a nice lunch on the patio. Come along, children!"

Their ravenous eyes lit up with ease, highly encouraged by the idea. Without hesitation, they raced up the stone steps ahead of their parents, who waited for Draco and Harry to catch up with them. The two wizards had stepped off the boat supposedly in time to take in Friedrich's and Louisa's good news, for Draco firstly congratulated his godfather before any other words could be exchanged. Harry kept a respectable distance, hands shoved deep into his side pockets. He adjusted his round spectacles more than once and offered Hermione a genteel nod in greeting.

"Thank you," Severus replied once he and Draco were through shaking hands; he fiddled with his wrist buttons, and Hermione secretly knew the gesture was meant to distract from becoming too emotionally wrought. "So, were they good for you?"

"Oh, yes!" Draco assured them; all four began the short walk up to the now bustling patio area. "Louisa and Kurt had a minor hiccup with their wands but—"

" _Wands_?" Severus turned a sharp eye on Draco and Harry, both of whom reeled back, trepidation showing on their faces. "I thought I strictly forbid you to allow them to practice any magic whilst we were away, Draco."

"Erm, yes, I - I know you _did_ enforce that rule but... Well..."

"Well, _what_?" Severus growled abrasively, by which time they had reached the top of the steps. He folded his arms across his chest and waited, black irises undoubtedly nettled and upset.

"Oh, Papa, don't blame them," Liesl warmly interjected, strolling up to the adult group and thereby saving the day; or so it seemed to her recent sitters. She leaned into Hermione, who accepted the young witch into her arms. "We insisted on cheating at Wizarding chest a couple times and transfigurations—"

" _Transfigurations_?" This time, it was Hermione who scolded a responding, shamefaced Liesl. "Liesl, that's highly dangerous to do without your father or me around to carefully oversee your efforts!"

"But Uncle Draco and Uncle Harry were here in case anything went wrong, Mum. That's why a couple of us figured we were safe to practice."

"So, it's 'Uncle Harry' now, is it?" Severus ground out between his teeth, glaring acutely at the war-weary Boy Who Lived, who proceeded to recoil further into himself. Draco readily joined him. Liesl shut her mouth and turned pleadingly to Hermione for support, who, though still somewhat miffed herself, offered forth a (temporary) solution.

"Why don't we save any further talk of this 'till _after_ the celebration?" That garnered silent but indisputable relief from Draco and Harry Potter respectively. She nodded encouragingly to Severus as well, who kept scowling outright. "This is Friedrich's and Louisa's special day, after all, is it not, love?"

"Quite," was his drawn out reply, putting an uneasy end to the discussion.

Draco and Harry took that as their cue to scurry off and join the children. They hastily took seats next to one another at the long patio table, remaining huddled together for the remainder of their meal, hands discreetly linked underneath the table. Severus displayed his persevering consternation to Hermione one last time before strolling away to sit at the end of the table next to Marta and Gretl.

Liesl, on the other hand, evidently had more to tell Hermione before they could sit down and partake in the festivities. "Mum?" she started and stopped, blushing slightly up at Hermione, whose regard instantly softened at that address. "I'm still getting used to calling you that."

"I love hearing it," Hermione confided happily, allowing Liesl to lead them in a gradual circle around the edge of the patio, their bodies hip to hip. Sensing the teen's underlying misgivings, Hermione tried to coax it out of her as gently as possible. "Is something troubling you, Liesl?"

"Well... You remember that first night you were here...and you caught me—?"

"Sneaking out after curfew? Oh, yes, I remember!" Hermione laughed lightly, hoping Liesl wouldn't feel disinclined to share whatever was weighing on her mind.

"I... I haven't been entirely forthright with you or Papa about who I was meeting up with during those outings..."

"'Outings'? As in, multiple?"

"The day you arrived was the last time we met up, I swear! In fact, I... I would have _liked_ to have met up with him a few more times, but he seemed to lose interest. I mean, he acted like himself again at the ballroom party but—"

"He was there, this man that you like?"

"Yes..." Liesl ceased walking, prompting Hermione to stare down into the girl's troubled face. "I've been afraid to tell because I'm fairly certain you'll know who he is as soon as I say his name. I know Papa will for sure, and I don't want to cause my friend any problems."

"Liesl, who is it?" When she still acted unforthcoming, Hermione laid a delicate hand on her shoulder. "You can't know how your father and I will react unless you tell us."

"Yes, I know... His name is Oliver Wood," she wound up mumbling under her breath.

"As in, the famous Quidditch player?" Hermione blinked several times, eyebrows rising in stunned surprise. " _He_ 's the one who was luring you out of the house after curfew?"

"Only a few times, Mum, I promise!" Liesl took a bewildered Hermione by the arm. "He was _always_ a gentleman to me, and he never hesitated to escort me back as soon as I was ready to come home."

"Be that as it may, Liesl," Hermione attempted to speak without wounding her daughter further, "isn't he a bit...old for you?"

Liesl reared back with narrowed eyes, not following. "I'm seventeen now; I'm not a child."

"Liesl—"

"I... I thought you'd be more understanding, Mum." She lowered her gaze, disappointment mounting on her pretty, though frustrated, expression. "I mean, you and Papa aren't exactly close in age either, and yet, you two have a very loving relationship."

Hermione couldn't help but thaw at such words. She roped her arm around Liesl's back and eased her closer. "That, we do. I'm not saying you and Mr Wood can't have that as well but... Well, what about your future plans, Liesl?"

Liesl's eyes flickered back to her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, don't you plan to go on to university in a year or two? And what about Mr Wood? Doesn't he travel all the time with his Quidditch team?"

"Yes, he does for _now_ , but in his last correspondence to me a month ago he mentioned that he was thinking of quitting Quidditch and applying for a job in Law Enforcement."

Hermione stiffened. She knew Severus would _not_ be impressed to hear of such a professional shift, and she couldn't blame him. "Law Enforcement?" she questioned carefully. "Whatever for?"

Liesl, too, had gone a bit rigid as she answered, "Apparently he's interested in some of the new social policies Minister Nottingham wants to enact."

"Liesl, I sincerely hope you're not in agreement with Mr Wood on that being a suitable idea?"

Liesl's expression fell, revealing her true sentiments on a most touchy subject. "Well, no, not _exactly_ , but..."

"The Minister's proposed policies are not at all good for this country."

"That's why I wanted to speak with you, Mum, and maybe Papa, too, if you think he'd be open to hearing it? I... I want Oliver and me to move forward with our relationship, and he seems receptive to that, but I don't know how to get through to him about his career plans. They're of concern to me as well."

"Well, you shouldn't hide how you feel, Liesl." Recalling her own mentor's wise words from the not-too-distant past, and how they greatly helped her, Hermione tried to provide the same guidance to her daughter for the first time. "You should face Oliver and tell him how it bothers you so; see what he says."

"You think so?"

"Oh, yes! Believe me, nothing good can come of _not_ being honest and straightforward. As for your father," Hermione offered with a slight chuckle, especially with Liesl sucking in a nervous, angst-ridden breath, "we'll tell him together, all right? Perhaps it's best if you let me do most of the talking."

"Yes, that would be great!" Liesl agreed all too readily, echoing a small sigh of alleviation. "Thanks, Mum!"

* * *

Severus scowled and flung the undisclosed correspondence he had been carrying around his pocket for over a day onto the empty table, letting forth an onerous sigh his wife overheard. His dark eyes were reflective and definitively agitated as they stared at nothing in particular in the centre of the table. He had been acting rather distracted and stressed throughout their family dinner, but he had yet to come clean to Hermione as to what was bothering him. He hadn't moved from his usual spot at the head of their dinning table either, even as the children, particularly the little ones, moseyed in and out every couple of minutes, each wanting to wheedle the solemn wizard away from his heavy-handed musings to play. Severus would grumble an excuse under his breath and they would then be on their way, albeit reluctantly and without any less befuddlement as to what was wrong.

The only individual purposely keeping her distance from Severus over the past forty-eight hours was Liesl, though she made a couple strained attempts at smiling politely. Otherwise, she remained silent and hesitant to approach him, reading the man's silence as his need for more time to process what had been an egregious secret, until two days ago.

Hermione had initially thought Severus's glowering today might have had something to do with learning of Liesl's indiscretion with Oliver Wood, a strapping but problematic young lad whom, as it turned out, had been one of his pupils at Hogwarts. Severus had certainly acted distraught at his daughter's disclosure, but something in Hermione's gut told her that her husband's growing anxieties had to do with another matter entirely, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"So, what is it, Severus?" she put forth the question to him without delay, plopping herself down in a seat next to him that normally would have been occupied by Marta.

Severus turned to her, discontent swarming behind the depths of his eyes. "The Ministry," he answered matter-of-factly, and the grave lines on his face hardened.

Concerned, Hermione took the open letter into her hands and began to read. Her mouth soon dropped open, disquieted by what harshly came to light. "Nottingham can't be serious... _Severus_!"

"I'm to report to the Wizengamot at eight o'clock tomorrow morning." The words were cold and calculated and laden with sourness. "To think, accusing the Malfoys of further wrongdoing after everything the Ministry's already put Lucius and Narcissa through."

Hermione surveyed Severus with paramount uneasiness. "What are you going to do?"

The critical scowl Severus wore dulled a bit, his eyes gently searching hers. "What do _you_ think I should do?"

Slowly, Hermione placed the parchment back on the table and covered it with her hand. "I think... Love, I don't think you should testify."

"If I refuse to testify, the Wizengamot can have me arrested." Severus let out a bitter snort, "Something, I believe, Nottingham's been looking forward to for a long time."

"Well, we won't let that happen!" Hermione snarled fiercely and shot forward in her seat. Her hand found Severus's arm and wound around it tightly. " _I_ won't let that happen!"

Severus's expression was weary and disheartened as it bore into Hermione's. "I can't speak out against Lucius and Narcissa when they already paid their penance—"

"Nor should you! These new charges against them are bogus!" Hermione angrily huffed, but, then the heat in her cheeks faded, exchanged for pallid panic and fear. "You've already thought this through."

Severus's gradual nod confirmed Hermione's tension. "Yes...to the best of my ability. To refuse the Wizengamot would be detrimental to us all, Hermione, and yet, joining in their latest crusade against people who are not only innocent but are also my friends is...unthinkable. I can't, in good conscience, allow it. You understand?"

Sensing the torment that lay beyond her husband's words, Hermione swallowed her reservations and held tight to his arm. "I do, love; I _do_. What should we do now?"

"Get the children together. Have them pack only their essentials. Say nothing too detailed about what's wrong; I don't want them to be alarmed or afraid. We've got to get out of here...and this house...as soon as possible."

* * *

 **A/N #2 : One chapter to go...**

 **My deepest thanks, as always, to those who review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N : Well, we've reached the final chapter. **

**If you enjoyed this story, I hope you'll consider giving one or more of my other SSHG works a try in the near future...**

 **Disclaimer : _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. _The Sound of Music_ is copyrighted to and belongs to Rodgers  & Hammerstein. I'm just playing in their sandboxes. No money, just fun. **

* * *

**Chapter 8**

 _"For here you are, standing there, loving me  
Whether or not you should..."_

* * *

"Sis? Oi, _sis_!" an unusually tender but equally stressed out voice called from behind, prompting Louisa to whip her head around and face her frantic addressee; it was Friedrich, who had his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched forward, as though he was fully prepared to take flight. "Papa says it's time to go!"

Louisa frowned forlornly at her older brother, for she couldn't help herself. That translatable sadness was indisputable, even with the shade of darkness providing their family temporary advantage; or so they were counting on. "But I don't want to leave this house," she confessed all too quietly, reluctant to move her feet one inch backward. She tried to keep any hint of a whimper at bay. "I was _finally_ beginning to feel at home here... Weren't you?"

"Yes, of course," Friedrich confessed back, his voice slighter. Still frowning, Louisa glanced up at the front of the grand, white estate once more, her dispirited eyes landing lastly upon her bedroom window on the second floor and off to the right. A light touch against her back interrupted her morbid sentiments, its contact meant to bestow her comfort rather than despair. "I know you don't want to leave, sis; I don't either... We'll come back, I know it. Papa says we'll come back one day."

 _'One day'_? That sounded more like 'never' in her sorrowful heart. " _When_?" she pined, turning to Friedrich. Sudden tears welled up in her eyes.

Unfortunately, Friedrich found himself stumped of any consoling words he might offer her but, fortunately for him, Brigitta unexpectedly crept forward from around a thick tree trunk. The comfort she, in turn, gave her siblings then sounded wise and well beyond her now eleven-years of age. "As soon as this country comes to its senses again, and it _will_ , Louisa. Don't fret. We _will_ come back here once things settle down. You'll see. Papa's published letter in The Daily Prophet tomorrow should do the trick."

Although not entirely convinced, Louisa ceased her moping and stepped forward to embrace her younger sister. Friedrich, too, became wrapped up in their solid, sisterly bond in front of what had been the closest resemblance to an actual sanctuary the three had ever known. Both girls still had steady streams of tears running down their cheeks as they forced themselves to turn their backs on the house at last and join the remainder of their family at the front gates, where everyone was gathered around a rumbling, tired-sounding Ford Anglia 105 Deluxe.

The vehicle's old, protesting engine, normally obnoxiously loud enough to wake an entire village, belonged to the Weasleys and was being lent to the Snapes as a suitable escape method. With a few additional, last minute magical touches, such as Severus's Silencing Charm, as well as the car's own Invisibility Booster, it was the next best option to less legal or perilous travelling alternatives, such as Apparation, which was 'out of the question' for the children (according to Hermione but also to British wizarding law, as it would track the youngsters as soon as the practice was initiated), or Flooing, which carried the potential risk of being spotted by Ministry spies.

Although reluctant to consent to using the ugly, spotty contraption at first, Arthur and Molly Weasley had vigorously assured Severus and Hermione multiple times over that the flying Ford was untraceable to the government and perfectly suited to get them as far as France. The Ministry was apparently unaware of Arthur's continued dabbling in the hobby of illegal flying muggle motor vehicles; or that the law-abiding wizard had had the balls to replace his last unauthorised flying car, supposedly lost to the Forbidden Forest years before, with a near matching replacement.

When Friedrich, Louisa, and Brigitta reached their family, they found Arthur aggressively shaking Severus's hand whilst Molly softly aided Hermione in ushering a tearful Marta and Gretl into the front seats of the car. "Thank you, Arthur," they overhead their father thanking the cordial redhead. "We owe you for this."

"You owe us nothing, Severus," Arthur waved away his gratitude with a friendly smile. "Just let us know that you've all arrived at Beauxbatons safely, won't you?"

Severus gave a constrained but well-mannered nod. Molly, who had shuffled back to the men, along with Hermione, turned to hug her former co-worker tightly. A reticent, much quieter Draco and Harry Potter, who, too, were standing by, looked on as the Snapes said their farewells. "Alfred and I will look after the house while you're away," Molly guaranteed, her eyes swimming with tears; she reached past Hermione to force Severus into a hug, too, though his returning embrace was much stiffer than his wife's. "Draco and Harry will check in on us as well. Don't worry about a thing."

"Thank you, Molly," Hermione spoke up for the pair of them, feeling her emotions getting the better of her resolve as she glanced from loving face to loving face with deep-seated appreciation. "Thank you all so much for what you're doing for us."

"You don't have to leave, Severus," Draco blurted out without warning. He leapt forward and grasped his godfather by the arm, his pale face desperate and worried, and continued to clutch to Severus despite his new lover's small, noiseless attempt to hold him back. "You don't have to risk yours and your family's safety for the sake of mine!"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that," Severus returned and Draco's markedly flushed cheeks brightened, apparent even under the shield of night. "Your parents don't deserve this scrutiny, and neither do I or my family. That settles it."

"I _know_ they don't, Severus, and I know _you_ don't either but—"

"No 'buts' about it, Draco. Make sure that they stay well hidden and safe until this all calms down. As of now, this conversation is at an end." Draco's face fell, somewhat disappointed in not convincing Severus to stay. His downcast expression lured Severus into not leaving matters between them on such a dreadfully sombre note. He gripped Draco's shoulder, giving it a heartened squeeze. "Take care of yourself, Draco. You may find yourself unfairly targeted next by Nottingham and his idiot band of misfits. Write to me should anything go badly for you or your parents, and _don't do anything stupid_ , do you hear?"

"I'll do my best to ensure that he doesn't, sir," Harry Potter inserted for his boyfriend, intending for his remark to lighten the mood. His tense lips moulded into the faintest smile that Severus, to Hermione's and everyone's utter shock, readily returned.

"In that case," Severus growled gamely, staring both men down as disgustedly as he could, "you're hopelessly lost, the pair of you."

Relieved to hear Draco laugh at that, albeit briefly, Severus relinquished his hold and guardedly linked his hand through Hermione's, feeling her press his hand back. It was the necessary encouragement he needed to push their family onward and, thus, catching the children's concerned faces from where they all stared on, waiting by the car to leave, save for Marta and Gretl, who now watched from inside the vehicle, Severus commanded them to get in with a simple but firm toss of his head. They scrambled into the car without delay.

For the professor, he didn't chance a parting glance towards the sentimental house that had been bequeathed back into his trust by the Princes many years ago, nor did Hermione look upon it either, each knowing full well that, should they so much as peek at its now cold, empty outline, their fragile will to leave it behind might crumble. Instead, they pressed on, unlocked hands, and scooted into the front seats of the awaiting Ford. A clingy Gretl perched herself on Hermione's lap whilst a muted, strong-willed Marta and Brigitta wedged themselves in between their parents. Liesl, Kurt, Louisa, and Friedrich settled into the rear, compacted into seats meant for two; but none of them issued a single complaint about their too tightly-packed arrangement.

All seven of those young faces—countenances whom Severus had grown to cherish as his own flesh and blood—momentarily left him bereft. From what he could visualise from the driver's seat, none had ever appeared more adult-like in their short lives. In that moment, they were, once again, not the modest, sweet-minded children he knew them to be but soldiers ready to carry on at his and Hermione's commands. For the girls, their tears had ceased. For the boys, their frowns had been replaced by respectful nods of resolution.

Severus's quiet, steadfast regard rested on Hermione lastly, conciliated by the determination in those warm, brown irises. Behind their fearless depths, however, which she had carried remarkably well since they had enacted their flighty escape plans mere hours before, he could sense her fright and trepidation about what might befall them next. Yet, she kept such angsty reservations to herself, smiled hopefully at him, and began a gentle, soft hum for Gretl and Marta, huddled against her for warmth and protection.

Severus moved the clutch into position and the Ford hoisted itself into the air, invisible and soundless to all. Its bright lights would have fleetingly swept across the faces of those whom they were leaving behind but, unfortunately, they were dull on this night. Brigitta cuddled up against her father and buried her face in his chest as they listened to Hermione's continued comforting humming of a well-acquainted muggle tune: "Edelweiss".

* * *

Liesl wasn't aware of her persistent left leg twitching until Kurt finally nudged her hard in the side. "Ouch!" she let slip and shot daggers at her younger brother, who merely shrugged at her.

"What," he countered, "it's annoying!"

" _You_ 're annoying, you know that?"

"I'm trying to get you to calm down!"

"No, you can never just sit quietly and do as you're told!"

" _Quiet, both of you_!" Hermione emphasised through a clenched jaw, whirling around in the front passenger seat to glare down the two.

Liesl and Kurt immediately fell silent at Hermione's warning look, their faces apologetic but their bodies on edge. Their siblings, too, appeared extremely anxious, each doing their utmost best to remain quiet as their parents had instructed. Waiting on tenterhooks for their father to return to the car was excruciating, however, and becoming more difficult by the moment. They could barely make out his lanky, fluid frame in the distance ahead as he swept and darted between trees, his silhouette mostly clouded by the dense fog that had settled in the forest where they were presently taking refuge.

It had been Liesl's sharp senses that had picked up on a trace of some kind that suggested they were being followed. She hadn't hesitated to speak up about her gut feelings as they were flying over the quaint, sleeping town of Buckinghamshire. Some of the children had nodded off to sleep by then but quickly started at Liesl's abrupt warning.

A nauseating dread had since settled into the pit of her stomach as she wrestled with her suspicions as to who might be the culprit on their tail. Ever since her father had stopped the vehicle and exited to investigate further, she had watched every window like a hawk, praying against hope that her instincts were wrong.

Hermione had (reluctantly) stayed back with the children at his behest but her perceptive, narrowed eyes, too, were focused on what little she could discern of Severus in between the hazy mist. The only sounds to occasionally break the stifling silence were the muffled hootings of an owl in a nearby tree, Gretl's or Marta's low, frightened whimpers, or a family member's intense breathing. Hermione's wand was out and at the ready, her shoulders tensed and ready to pounce from the car, if necessary. Her taut body language had lured Liesl and Friedrich to withdraw their wands as well, though Liesl kept hers hidden at her side. She hoped there would be no reason forthcoming for using it, but her tingling senses were signalling otherwise.

As Severus swooped back into view from behind a brush, a squeak of a voice startled everyone by saying, "Mummy?"

Hermione exhaled first to calm her too excited, beating heart before replying to Gretl, "Yes, love?"

"Would it help if we hummed that song again; the one about Papa's favourite flowers?"

"No, sweetheart," Hermione stressed, straining to smile for the credulous, fearful little girl, "I'm afraid this is one time where that _won't_ help." She brought an index finger delicately to Gretl's lips. "You must be very quiet, all right? Hold tight to me."

Gretl nestled closer to Hermione, her terrified, wide eyes peeking out from behind the security of Hermione's arms to scout the dark, dreary scenery beyond the invisible barrier that was their car. She and the others watched with baited breath as Severus made another circle of the perimeter on foot, disappearing for what felt like an eternity but what was, in reality, only a couple minutes. He re-emerged to the right, closer to the vehicle than before, and Hermione's and Liesl's reflexes were instantly to raise their wands to attack, until they realised who it was.

Severus looked to be about to step over to the driver's side when sudden movement to his left halted him in his tracks. In the next instant, Severus had whipped his head sideways, his robes breezing freely alongside every agile movement he made, and crouched into a duelling position. A light shot forth from his wand, aimed towards the high branches in a tree, and then something—or some _one_ —crashed into the thick, overrun brush below, easily becoming ensnared in its sharp twigs and pines. Severus cautiously strode closer to whomever he had struck down, his wand lit and aimed at its adversary.

At detecting a couple of heated curses that definitely didn't sound like the wizard they knew, Hermione and Liesl sprung out of the vehicle at the same time. "Stay in the car!" Hermione ordered the children over her shoulder, hurriedly plopping Gretl down on the front seat before slamming the door shut and running after her husband, wishing to be of assistance. She didn't realise that Liesl was on her heel until the two witches were standing side by side moments later. "Severus!" Hermione cried to her husband once she reached him, relieved to find that he was perfectly all right. She nabbed his arm but his attention was directed only at the tousling bushes in front of them.

" _Oliver_!" Liesl gasped, horrified, as the person she had feared might be following them materialised. His normally wavy brown locks were an untidy mess, full of debris, and there were fresh scratches on his cheeks and forehead from his fall; he also seemed to be limping and nursing his right knee. " _What are you doing here_?"

"Following _you_ ," he grumbled, wincing as he extracted some pine needles from his tattered trousers.

"A very unwise move, Mr Wood," Severus apprised the young lad in a low, dangerous purr that shot a shiver up his daughter's spine. His eyes, already dark as could be, glistened with unmitigated fury, visible even amongst the murky shadows.

Liesl would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of her father's wrath as her boyfriend now found himself to be. _No_ , she acknowledged with inward despondence; he was no longer that to her either. _Not after tonight_.

"You could have killed me!" Oliver exclaimed, clearly affronted by Severus's attack; he ignored the shocked expressions of his one-time girlfriend and Hermione, as well as Severus's incensed stare.

"And it would have been your own damn fault, boy," Severus fired back, bearing his teeth in response. "What business have you in following my family?"

"What business have _you_ in illegally exiting the country in the middle of the night right before a hearing, _Professor_?" Oliver, in turn, challenged him. He made a shifty raise of his right arm and it was Liesl, rather than her parents, who reacted first.

With a quick-thinking incantation of "Expelliarmus!" Oliver's wand sped out of his hand and into Liesl's, who snatched it from the air and swiftly handed it off to an impressed Hermione. The glare Oliver projected at her then was a nastiness Liesl had never recalled seeing before, and she tried not to let her emotional injury show.

"My business is my _own_ affairs," Severus stated once he had recovered from his own shock of witnessing his daughter's masterful reflexes. "They're hardly yours, you pretentious fool! This is a free country, and my family and I can come and go as we please."

Although he no longer carried any form of protection, Oliver apparently wasn't ready to back down. He defiantly raised his chin at Severus, his eyes maddening and not withholding their rage. For Liesl, it was gobsmacking, for this hot-headed cad didn't resemble the well-mannered, strapping man who had been courting her for months. So much in him—and that hatred-tainted face of his—had changed. "It's you the Ministry wants, not them," he stated for Severus alone. "Come quietly, and your family won't be harmed."

Severus blinked and slightly angled his head, much like a wild cat might gesture when its ears have detected a rustle of its prey nearby. "Is that a threat, Mr Wood?" He glided a step closer to the unarmed wizard, his wand arm straight and pointed directly at Oliver's chest. Oliver visibly started as the former Death Eater approached him.

"Don't come any closer!" he snapped, showcasing his fright.

"Or what," Severus all but snorted, one half of his lips twisting into a lawless smile, "you'll curse me? Hex me? Overrun me somehow without the help of your wand?"

"Papa—"

"You have no idea who you're dealing with, boy."

"Severus, wait," Hermione intervened, throwing an arm across Liesl to hold the girl back when she sought to stop him.

"You - You won't hurt me!" Oliver either tried to reason or stupidly provoke Severus; it was difficult for Hermione and Liesl to judge. "You can't! You'll go straight to Azkaban prison!"

With one hand, Severus grabbed a hold of Oliver's shirt and yanked him forward in one fell swoop. Oliver struggled against Severus's impenetrable clutches. His eyes turned from irate to petrified in a heartbeat as he stared into the now raging, misshapen expression that belonged to Severus Snape. With his other hand, Severus had the tip of his wand pressed against Oliver's pulsating neck.

"Papa, _please_!" Liesl found herself pleading, not for Oliver's sake but for her father's. "Don't! He's not worth it!"

The pointy tip of Severus's wand inched a little deeper and was on the verge of piercing Oliver's skin. Oliver jerked and squeezed his eyes shut in pain. "Severus, _enough_ ," Hermione, too, softly begged her husband; her heart was pounding furiously in her chest as she reached out to coil her fingers around his arm. "Liesl's right. Let him go."

Severus weighed that hefty decision for a rather long pause, sneering down his nose at a quaking Oliver all the while. At last, his grip on the boy smartly lessened, as did the pressure from his wand, though he made sure to purposely fling the young man backward once he finally let go. Oliver staggered, requiring a moment to right himself. Once he had found his footing again, his enlarged eyes turned as seething as they had been previously; that was, before it seemed that his life was about to be taken out by a former Death Eater whom he was ill-matched to fight against.

"You don't have it in you," Severus determined quietly, his rich baritone oozing with disdain and a certain twinge of knowingness that goaded Oliver on; his hands clenched and began to tremble at his sides. "You'll never be one of Nottingham's goons. You're too bright for them, Mr Wood; or so I had _presumed_ when you were once my student, even if you stemmed from that unfortunate, athletically-inclined, bird-brained Gryffindor House of ill breeding." He paused, permitting his stinging words to sink in, though there was little need for such respite, for Oliver's acid, tight-lipped scowl colourfully conveyed his reaction. "Go home, Mr Wood. Forget you ever saw us, and perhaps _I_ might feel inclined to do the same favour to you."

Oliver lingered, however, his peeved off glare dashing from Severus to Liesl momentarily, but that was swiftly broken by Severus's protective, animal-like growl. "You stay away from her, Mr Wood," he advised—warned, rather—and Hermione's clasp on her husband's arm tightened, holding him back from making good on his threat. "Your days of brainwashing my daughter and taking advantage of her kindness are over."

This time, Oliver didn't retort something snippy or dally about. He squared himself up and, with a departing grimace, Disapparated from the woods without his wand, which Hermione didn't hesitate to snap in half. Then she exhaled the nerve-wracking breath she had been holding in whilst Liesl's ability to maintain her cool splintered following Oliver's departure.

After being gently embraced by her mother, she was safeguarded into Severus's arms, who guided her back to the safety of the car. "I'm so sorry, Papa," she sobbed into his shoulder, choking on her words and wiping repeatedly at her tears. "I didn't think it would turn out this way. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right, Liesl." He gently added, as he left a small, tender kiss on her forehead, "I'm sorry, too..."

* * *

Hermione sighed as the mellow wind slightly ruffled her curls, frizzing them even more than they undoubtedly already were. The breeze's echo enticed her eyes to open and admire the scenery below: Beauxbatons, huddled snug and secure within the majesty of the Pyrenees Mountains, had never looked more splendid. Its brilliant, intricately carved chateau was one of a kind and surrounded by beautiful, lavish gardens that never wilted or died, even during the brutal autumn and winter months, its splendour so picturesque that Hermione thought it rather a shame that no muggle could ever glimpse its beauty; not even her parents, should they ever be permitted a visit.

 _There may be time yet to arrange that, depending on how long we stay_ , she considered as she stood alone with her thoughts on the French hillside.

She, Severus, and the children had been staying at her Alma Mater for seven weeks, and everyone, most especially the children, were adapting nicely to their new surroundings. Madame Maxime had welcomed the family with open arms, which Hermione and her husband were immensely grateful for and tried to pay their dues in whatever form the headmistress would allow. So far, she hadn't permitted them to lift a ruddy finger, but Hermione was hopeful that that might change. After all, they couldn't expect their gracious hostess to maintain such boundless generosity and hospitality forever. 'Who knows how long we'll be here,' she reminded the witch, but Madame Maxime simply waved her off and went about her business.

For Hermione, it had taken little time at all to warm up to the school again, though, like her family, her heart secretly yearned for its return to the moody, introspective Scottish highlands that had, since their discovery, become her _true_ home. Still, Beauxbatons wasn't a sloppy alternative; it would do for the time being.

Severus was keeping faith that an opportunity to return to the estate would present itself soon. Draco and Molly had been keeping them abreast of any political news back home. Unsurprisingly, a warrant had been issued against Severus the morning he didn't show up to his friend's hearing, calling for his immediate arrest. However, there was also a great deal of growing unrest amongst the wizarding community across the whole of Great Britain, none more so instigated then by Severus's heated letter regarding Nottingham that was published in The Daily Prophet, demanding the minister's resignation. Since then, the political unrest had snowballed. People were vocalising their complaints against their problematic Minister of Magic in ways they hadn't before, urging for Kingsley Shacklebolt's prompt return to the post; even The Daily Prophet had grown considerably outspoken against Nottingham in recent weeks.

'It's only a matter of time,' Severus promised Hermione and the children, which he knew livened their spirits to hear. The elder ones were particularly restless to return to Scotland, and Hermione understood why: they had finally settled into a tangible place to call their own, only to have it ripped out from beneath their feet in a matter of hours.

'We'll go back, children, I promise,' she and her husband had reassured them frequently, hoping the message would stick.

Hermione squinted in order to take in the children at the bottom of the hill. Friedrich, Louisa, and Kurt were practicing flight and trying to outrace each other on their broomsticks, Brigitta was perched on a rock off by herself and engrossed in a book, per usual, and Liesl was busily chasing after Marta and Gretl, who were attempting to snatch pixies from the air. Hermione couldn't find her husband anywhere amongst them, however, and his dark contour was always the easiest to spot. She frowned, puzzled and a tad concerned as to where he might have gone without explanation.

"Looking for something?" he suddenly whispered from behind, startling Hermione out of her worried musings. A pair of sturdy, lean arms warmly encased her, pulling her back against his chest.

"Found it," she breathed, peering sidelong up at him with a broad, contented grin.

The professor subtly returned her loving regard, his mouth breaking from its usually stern lines in order to provide a slim, handsome smile, exclusive and entirely meant for her. That had Hermione's smile spreading wider across her cheeks.

Severus drew downward to affectionately nuzzle her neck and jaw. Hermione had to bite on her bottom lip to keep from giggling outright at the man's ticklish assault upon her ear. His lips ceased their nibbling and, instead, delicately pecked the upper part of her left cheek. "I bring news," he declared after she had settled comfortably into his fold.

Hermione shuddered, intrigued. "Well, I should hope you would bring me something, seeing as you trekked all the way up here!"

"Apparated," he deadpanned, and Hermione could sense the underlying amusement in that correction.

"But of course. You and your incessant whining about walks."

"I beg your pardon, I very much _enjoy_ walking," he disputed through an unemotional snarl. "If it involves hills and exerting a great deal of physical effort, however, you should know that I'm not interested."

Hermione titled her head back so as to properly gaze up at him once more and brought their mouths together, kissing her husband with fervour. "What news do you bring?" she inquired softly once their lips had amicably parted, though not without forced restraint.

"Nottingham's policies were overruled by the Wizengamot."

Hermione jolted in his arms. " _Really_?"

" _And_ the people have called for his immediate resignation. There was quite the lively demonstration at the Ministry yesterday, which Draco and Mr Potter apparently led. Their pictures made the papers this morning."

Hermione's near delirious smile flopped upside down. "Those fools," she reprimanded with a shake of her head. "They could've gotten themselves arrested!"

"Nevertheless, their demonstration worked, my dear. I'll hand it to Potter: he knows how to get his opinions out there, and how to get others to sit up and take notice. Nottingham's out. Shacklebolt's been reinstated as of today."

"That's wonderful, Severus!" Overjoyed, Hermione tugged her husband's face down for another passionate snog.

"Which means—" he started, reluctantly breaking up the kiss once more; but Hermione exclaimed the words first.

" _We can go home_!"

"Yes." His smile stretched in relief.

Hermione finalised the news with another earnest smack to his lips. "Let's go tell the children!"

In haste, Hermione turned to scurry back down the hill, holding tight to Severus's hand and intending to drag him with her, when the strength of his arm pulled her back to him in a rush. She stared up at him, waiting, and was enthused when his mouth leaned into hers, their lips barely touching; she could feel his warm breaths on her face. "Just a moment," he mused and wrapped his arms firmly around the smallness of her back. "I require a little more alone time before those buggers descend on us and afford us no peace."

Hermione laughed lightly and nudged the man's much large nose. "There was a time I mistakenly thought you wanted nothing more than to get away!" She paused to place an appreciative hand on his chest, her fingers thoughtfully tracing a single edelweiss that Severus had pinned to his robes. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you, love."

Severus's intense eyes bore openly into hers. "You forced me to reevaluate why I took them in in the first place. I confess, I... I was partly lonely."

"I know."

"And I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Which you _were_ ," she asserted, nudging his nose a little harder. "And I'm so glad you did. You taking in those children and giving them a loving home brought me to you."

Then Severus allowed Hermione to recapture his lips, without vigour or hurriedness this time but with a deliberately slow, generous pace. Moments later, Hermione was the one ending their snog fest, her fingers still mindlessly stroking a few of the edelweiss' pedals as she reared back to stare up into her husband's gratified face.

Severus glanced down at her hand and bundled it close, cushioning it within his own. "Shall we?" he quietly suggested.

With an affirming smile, Hermione silently led the way down the hillside hand in hand. The professor didn't gripe at the uneven tread they faced, even if Apparation would have been preferable and gotten them to the children a lot faster. Staring at the back of his wife's ferociously thick, windswept curls, and being greeted by the adoring, beautiful faces of their children as they reached the bottom of the hill, Severus Snape concluded then and there that he would never convey an ill word of complaint ever again.

* * *

 **A/N #2 : Thank you for reading!**

 _ **Until next time.**_


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